Chapter One
The World Cup
–
Sometimes it's worse to win
a fight than to lose.
–
People were running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field towards me, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward me; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.
A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Their faces were hidden, decorated by masks. The crowd began to swell. The marchers began to blast tents out of their way, setting them on fire. The screaming grew louder, causing my ears to nearly bleed from the pain. The fires were growing higher and higher, the smoke engulfing my throat. Sweat dripped from my forehead, streaming down my cheeks. Desperate footsteps were obvious, frantic calls for help in the background. Then without any hint or explanation, the Dark Mark was visible overhead, haunting my very being. I pleaded to Merlin to make it stop. More than anything I wanted my Mum, I wanted her back.
"NO!" I bellowed, shooting up from my slumber and gasping for air.
"Winnie?" called Oliver from the opposing room. "You alright?"
Oliver strode into my bedroom and looked at me in an understanding way.
"The dream again?" he asked gently.
"Yeah," I nodded slowly, steadying the rhythm of my beating heart. The dream had become increasingly frequent since my encounter with Trelawney when it initially crossed my mind. I was so terrified of the possibility it would come true that if I didn't need sleep to avoid the inevitable boredom whilst at Whitby I would be an insomniac. I prayed my nightmare would cease once I was in my usual environment, once I was home with the Twins.
–
"Did you tell Winnie exactly where to meet us tomorrow?" asked Molly Weasley, taking away her first twin son's bowl of stew.
"For the millionth time, Mum, I told her," said Fred, taking to his feet from the kitchen table. "She's meeting us at two o'clock."
"Wonderful, you lot will have so much fun," Arthur Weasley smiled and nodded his approval. "This is the longest time you three have been separated from one another. I bet you two can't wait to reunite with her."
"Oh, yeah," said George dispassionately, following after his twin brother. "I can hardly contain my enthusiasm."
Fred sent George a nasty glare, looking back at him over his shoulder as he ascended the stairs up to their shared bedroom. George shut the door behind them and fell back onto his bed as if he hadn't even noticed his twin sending him vindictive glares. He closed his eyes, resting his hands behind his head as if to prepare for a relaxing nap. Fred had other plans however, he snatched up his goose-feathered pillow and hurled it as hard as he possibly could at his brother. George flinched, picked up the pillow and threw it back.
"Oi, what was that for?" George grunted.
"For being a git," said Fred, catching his pillow with one hand and placing it back in its usual spot.
"What are you talking about?" he said, rolling his eyes.
"You know what I'm talking about," he insisted. "I'm sick of this stupid fight you're having with Winnie. Suck it up, get over yourself, and talk to her."
"After what she did–"
"Don't you think you've punished her enough?" Fred interrupted. "I mean, you know I'm the king of holding grudges but this is Freddie we're talking about. She's our best friend, and I think you've ostracized her long enough. The whole reason she didn't tell us was so we wouldn't react like this–"
"She didn't tell us because she thought we would sabotage her relationship with that pretty boy prat," George retorted fiercely.
"And she'd be right," said Fred. "We wouldn't have done it intentionally, but you know how we are. We tease her, and she'd probably eventually get tired of it and settle for a break-up."
"Why are you defending her?" asked George. "You said it yourself, you're always the one to overreact and hold grudges."
"Because Winnie is my best friend, and I love her," he said simply. "I tend to be a bit more empathetic when it comes to people I care about. I thought you'd feel the same... however, my feelings for Winnie are merely platonic while yours are–"
"Shut up, Fred," George muttered. "I feel nothing towards her."
"You kissed her," he replied simply.
"I should have never told you that," he frowned, rolling his eyes. "It didn't mean anything, I told you that."
"And Winnie's the liar..." said Fred, smirking to himself.
–
"All I'm saying is that I think I've been pretty agreeable thus far concerning the clothes thing, but I'm unwilling to budge in this instance," I said to Oliver, peering at my reflection in the full length mirror and looking at it with disgust as if it were a piece of dung.
It was a deep green three-quarter length cardigan sweater with a white camisole, I could deal with that bit. However, a matching plaid green skirt that was too short for my liking. Like I admitted before, I had caved and worn a skirt or two for Agatha's sake over the month and a half, but I was extremely opposed to wearing it to the World Cup. All I wanted to do was show up in my favorite ragged old jeans, Ireland sweatshirt and worn in sneakers. Yet, I knew Aggie intended on me looking somewhat presentable when she introduced me to her sister like I was a prized show dog or something. I was more concerned with what the twins would think of me in such an ensemble than what Oliver's ruddy aunt thought of my appearance.
"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" asked Oliver, peering up at me momentarily whilst he pulled on his socks off the corner of my bed. "It's only a skirt."
"I'm sorry, have we met?" I said sardonically, extending my hand though Oliver did not concede and shake it to feed my sarcasm.
"Yeah, yeah you don't like skirts," he replied dryly. "I get it."
"I don't just dislike them," I frowned. "I despise them, loathe them, hate them with every fiber of my being."
"You're being a bit dramatic, don't you think?"
"No, I don't think I am," I snapped. "Every time I put on one of those despicable things it's like I'm betraying my own character. I'm done pretending I'm something I'm not."
"You can tell me what's really bothering you," said Oliver all-knowingly. "You're just worried what the twins will think if they see you dressed up a bit."
"I don't care what they think," I lied.
"Liar," he smirked. "They're the only ones who you do care about what they think."
"That's completely untrue," I spat, "and to prove you wrong I'll wear the bloody thing, but I'm wearing my Chucks with it. I'm not wearing Mary Jane's again."
"Fine, whatever you say," he said apathetically, shrugging as he hopped off the edge of my bed.
I slid on my faded Chucks and adjusted my knee high socks. I snatched up my small backpack and followed Oliver, who insisted on lugging my baggage, down the hallway. I ceased my footsteps before we descended the stairs.
"Wait a minute," I said, having a sudden revelation. He'd psychologically dueled me and won. He tricked me into wearing the bleeding skirt because he knew we'd run into his bloody teammates and he wanted me to dress up to meet them. Witty git, I was really rubbing off on him. "Oh, you're good."
"I learned from the best," he smirked, winking at me before descending the staircase.
We were met at the bottom of the steps by the Wood's pudgy housekeeper, Beatrice, who appeared to have been upholstered into her apparel at all times. She's practically raised Oliver since the time he was just a baby. She was a strict yet kind old woman, always equipped with a witty remark if you cross her in the slightest. I loved the old gal. She reminded me a lot of Molly to be perfectly honest. Oliver looked around his housekeeper for his mum and dad, who were no where in sight.
"Where's Mum and Dad, B?" asked Ollie, turning his gaze back onto Beatrice. "They told us to meet them here–"
"Master Wood, your parents asked me to inform you that they were called away last minute on business and will be forced to meet you at your tent at the Cup," Beatrice explained. "They extended their utmost apologies."
"Oh, I'm sure they did," Ollie grumbled under his breath.
Oliver walked towards the nearby coat rack with determination and grabbed his favored corduroy jacket to yank on. He strode back to me and picked my bags back up off the ground, his expression rigid and bursting with displeasure. I gently placed my hand on his shoulder and looked over at him.
"Are you alright?" I asked tentatively, picking May up off the ground to prepare for our departure.
"I'm fine, I'm used to it," he muttered. "You ready?"
"Yeah," I nodded solemnly.
It felt as if all the air had been pushed out from my lungs all at once. We began swirling into a pool of psychedelic tubes. It was as if I was drowning and soaring through the air at the exact same time. I was still unfamiliar with side-by Apparation. I landed flat on my face like a bleeding oaf. I lifted my head up and saw Oliver smirk as he looked down at me before hoisting me up off the ground by my arm. I dusted off my skirt and ran my fingers through my long hair, feeling like I had just been inside a whirlpool. I blinked several times before realizing we were atop the hill overlooking the camp.
"OK then?" asked Ollie, lacing his fingers with mine as he tossed my luggage over his shoulder.
"I may vomit," I admitted.
"That's to be expected," he smirked. "Try not to puke until after you meet the rest of my family though."
"No promises," I groaned, holding my stomach with May under my other arm who appeared unfazed.
"Come on," he smiled, pulling me towards the tents.
Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, I could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. We made our way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on me how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; I had never really thought much about those in other countries.
I looked down at the countless witches and wizards below us. My mouth hung a bit open at the wondrous scene below. It was amazing, breathtaking really. I'd never seen so many people in all my life, talking and laughing so loud that it echoed in my eardrums. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As we drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.
"How many times, Kevin? You don't – touch – Daddy's – wand – yecchh!"
She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after us on the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells – "You bust slug! You bust slug!"
A short way farther on, we saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Oliver and I he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose–"
Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE. I caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents we passed, and though I couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.
"Er– is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Oliver suddenly, grasping my attention.
It wasn't just Oliver's eyes. We had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind us, I heard our names.
"Winnie, Oliver darling!" called Agatha's voice as she hurried up behind us whilst Liam was no where in sight.
"Mum, Dad," said Oliver curtly. "I thought we were going to leave from the house together by car. You know, because Winnie isn't accustomed to Apparation."
"Oh, we're so terribly sorry, sweetheart," said Aggie. "The Bulgarian Minister of Magic was coming down with a terrible fever, and Cornelius asked your father to bring me along early to tend to him before the match."
"I see," Oliver nodded, not pleased with her excuse. "Where are–"
"Ollie!" called a child's voice from behind his parents.
A tiny boy, no more than three, with shaggy brown hair came wobbling out of the adjacent tent to run flat into Oliver's leg. He clasped onto Ollie's leg so tight that it nearly caused him to topple over. Oliver merely smiled broadly, abandoning his prior displeasure with his parents and lifted the little mite of a boy up onto his shoulders. The little brunette giggled furiously and held onto Oliver by his ears. I grinned at the scene before me, having never seen Oliver act in such a manner.
"Winnie," he began, still laughing to himself, "this is Finn, my cousin, and here coming are my Aunt Caddy and Uncle Felix."
"Oh, Finnigan, I told you not to go running off," started Caddy who looked identical to her older sister though her hair obtained no gray yet. Her husband was rather tall with light brown locks atop his head that hung almost before his square rimmed glasses. "Oliver dear, this pretty little thing must be the girl we've heard so much about."
"Finn, Cads, Felix this is Winnie McKinnon," he smiled, holding Finn steady before wrapping his free arm around my waist.
"Nice to meet you," I grinned, extending my hand to shake theirs.
"Pleasure, darling," Caddy beamed. "Aggie has told me so many good things about you."
"She is too kind," I replied.
"We were just about to go steal your father away from the Minister for a bit of souvenir shopping," said Agatha. "Would you two like to come along?"
"No thanks, Mum," said Oliver. "I was going to go introduce Winnie to my teammates before I drop her off at the Weasley's tent."
"Oh, alright then," said Aggie, nodding despondently.
"Bye, Finn," said Ollie, pulling his cousin from his shoulders and tickling him. "S' go, Win."
"It was nice meeting you," I said, knowing Oliver wanted to leave quickly. He passed Finnigan on to his father, took me by the arm and yanked me towards the other direction before I could give anyone a proper goodbye.
"Meet us by our tent at two, Oliver dear," called his mother before we disappeared.
"Yes, Mother," he frowned.
I couldn't relate to having a desire to avoid contact with my family and by family I mean the Weasleys. Excluding my situation with George, I loved every second spent with those goofy redheads. I mean, we liked each other's company. As annoying as Percy is I've still never minded him enough to abruptly leave him when we were all together that is. I wasn't accustomed to the way the Wood family ticked. It was very bizarre to me. I never brought up my concerns to Oliver because I knew it was a subject he didn't want to ever address, either for embarrassment reasons or just because it hurt him too much.
Instead of spending time with his family, Oliver wanted to spend time with people who he would soon consider to be his new family: Puddlemere United. A group of them stood in a circle under a banner that was decorated with their team colors. A few were playfully wrestling while the rest were busy chugging down beer. The majority looked to be in their early thirties with a couple appearing to be Oliver's age. I felt a bit nervous walking up behind Oliver, his fingers laced in mine.
"Ah, look boys, it's Wood!" called a bulky man, not boy but man. He appeared a tad bit too pudgy to be a professional Quidditch player, looking far past his prime. He forcefully pulled Oliver forward and patted him harshly on the back, knocking the wind out of him before shoving a full pint in his hand.
"Cheers, O'Grady," said Oliver awkwardly, looking small in comparison to the burly Irishman. If Oliver Wood's stature seemed tiny one can only imagine how I measured up. I looked like a mite. I remembered the name "O'Grady" from one of Oliver's numerous Quidditch rambles. O'Grady was the aging Keeper that he would be replacing soon. It was no wonder. I questioned how a broom managed to lift the man off the bloody earth to begin with.
"This is my–"
"This lassie must be yer ole lady then?" he chuckled drunkenly, extending his plump hand for me to shake. "Mick O'Grady, little girl, I'm–"
I really did not appreciate being called an old lady or a little girl, but I most despised being referred to as a possession.
"Let me guess," I said sardonically. "You must be the grandfather of one of the players. It's so great to see someone your age so active–"
"Winnie," Oliver scolded, sending me a harsh glare before smiling apologetically at the neanderthal.
"Ye sure got yerself a feisty lass, Wood," the man laughed loudly, utterly unfazed by my crude comment. "I'd 'old on tah this one if I were ye."
O'Grady wrapped his arm around my upper arms and pulled me against him, giving me a bone crushing hug beside him that caused me to almost squeeze May to death. He smelt of sweat and alcohol, and I resisted the urge to vomit. The rest of the team chuckled hardily along with Oliver who was enjoying my discomfort. I couldn't care less about seeing Oliver's teammates. Don't get me wrong I guess meeting professional Quidditch players was cool or whatever, but I was the girlfriend of one and I was less than impressed with them. All that mattered to me was seeing Fred and George... even if he didn't want to see me.
"I'll do my best," Ollie smirked.
I sat around with Puddlemere United, feeling a bit out of sorts as I was the only female. The players were very boisterous and er– Irish. I found it difficult to concentrate on anything except my extreme desire to return to the Weasleys. I missed them so much it hurt. When my wristwatch turned to one-fifty I could barely contain my excitement. I gently placed my hand on Oliver's arm and smiled up at him, interrupting his conversation with their Seeker, Hensley.
"It's almost two," I said quietly.
Oliver nodded his understanding and picked up my bags beside him.
"I need to go drop off Winnie," said Oliver. "I'll meet up with you lot in a bit."
"Bring 'er wit ye to tah bonfire we're having tonight," said O'Grady loudly, swinging his pint. "Yer still comin' right?"
"Yeah, I'll be there after Ireland wins," said Oliver, earning loud cheers from his teammates.
–
I recognized the tents that belonged to the Weasleys at once. Fred had created a makeshift sign reading "Weasleys" to be propped up outside the temporary homes. I had to restrain myself from running. I dropped May onto the floor, and she instinctively ran inside the slip in the tent. I heard a couple calls that I must have arrived judging by May's appearance, so I darted towards the tent, throwing back the slip to see my loved ones. I bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt my jaw drop. I had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. It was furnished in exactly the same sort of style an old woman would decorate: There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats. Oliver followed in behind me, carefully creating a pile of my things against the wall.
I didn't have time to situate myself to my new surroundings because I was swooped up into a bear-like hug by Fred before I could finish a breath. He spun me around while I laughed at him, harder and more genuinely than I had in over a month. I wrapped my arms snugly around his neck and placed an enormous sloppy kiss on his forehead. He set me down on the ground again, took me delicately by the hand and spun me as if to get a good look at me.
"I barely recognized you, Freddie," he chuckled. "Where have you been hiding those legs? We would have liked to have a look–"
"Fred," I warned, elbowing him in the gut to shut him up and nod towards Oliver.
"Oh hey, Wood," Fred laughed.
"Hey there, Fred," Oliver laughed in reply shaking his hand hardily.
"Winnie!" Ginny exclaimed, giving me a huge hug before Arthur followed suit. Ron, Harry and Hermione were off causing shenanigans no doubt. Percy, Charlie and Bill had yet to arrive but George was unaccounted for.
"I heard you were signed to Puddlemere, Wood," said Arthur, patting him roughly on the back. "Congratulations!"
"Thank you, sir," he grinned, choking slightly from the abrupt slap on the back.
"Well, you just missed the trio– well, the younger trio," said Arthur, implying the twins and I were the older trio. "They went to fetch water for us all. The three oldest should be here soon, and George is... oh, here he comes–"
I bit my tongue to fight a smile, turning to look at the entrance. I was nearly pushed beside Oliver as the tornado of human beings shot into the tent. I almost vomited at the sight before me. George was accounted for now, no denying that but by looking at the parasite clawing onto his arm, so was Alicia Spinnet. They were mid jovial laugh when they laid eyes on me, they're smiles instantly faded. Fred and Ginny hadn't mentioned Alicia and George were still carrying on with their charade, not one word in all of those letters even slightly hinted at them continuing a relationship. I was livid, it would have been nice to have a heads-up. Maybe if I knew beforehand I wouldn't feel like I'd been slapped across the face with the reality of Alicia being a guest along with Harry and Hermione. I glared at the over-dressed strawberry blonde, narrowing my eyes to slits.
"Oh, Winnie," said Alicia. "I forgot you were coming, what a surprise."
"Oh, Alicia," I spat. "I forgot you existed, what a disappointment."
I heard Fred snort a laugh along with Ginny, and I swear on my life that for one half a second I saw George's face rear-up for a laugh but fought it off before it could be released. I must have been hallucinating.
"Hi George," I said with venom on my tongue.
"Hi Winnie," said George reluctantly. He probably wouldn't have addressed me had his father not been present. He sneered blatantly when his eyes shifted onto Oliver. "Wood."
"Weasley," Oliver nodded at George, matching his hatred with his glare.
"Tell me, Oliver, would you be so kind as to indulge us with your presence for dinner," asked Arthur, George's face in shock. "We've already got Alicia staying with us, we can surely accommodate one more."
"Thank you, sir, but my parents are already expecting me," said Oliver kindly, "In fact, I'm late to meet them now. I best head off."
George's face almost seemed to relax at that response. However, my next move caused his face to become rigid once again once I turned to Oliver and purposely kissed him longingly in front of the happy couple.
"I'll see you soon," I said quietly. "Love you."
I meant it.
"I love you too," said Oliver, cupping my face in his palms and leaning in to whisper something in my ear. "You know where my tent is. If for any reason you need to get away just come and stay with me."
"Expect me later," I said sadly, kissing him once more before he departed.
There was no way in bleeding hell that I would share a room with Alicia Spinnet.
–
Oliver left me alone with Fred and the gruesome twosome. Ginny went off to help her father prepare for dinner.
I saw George look me up and down with an indifferent expression whilst Alicia's face screamed disgust.
"Winnie, I didn't know you could manage to wear something feminine," said Alicia snidely, snuggling up closer to George.
"Sod off, Alicia–" started Fred viciously.
"Fred–" George defended his little girlfriend in a warning tone.
"No, Fred, it's alright," I said coyly, patting his chest. "I'm not offended. I'm just surprised she can manage to formulate a proper sentence considering she's functionally illiterate. I mean, really, good for you, dear. Now did you have to write that on your hand or did you memorize that all by yourself?"
"There's no need for hostility," said Alicia as if she was Mother-bloody-Teresa.
"Oh, sweetheart, you don't know the meaning of the word hostility," I sneered. "Literally. Now if you'll excuse me, Fred, may I have a word?"
I gripped his upper arm tightly and yanked him fiercely outside.
"Christ, Freddie, what?" he groaned, pulling away from me.
"Why didn't you tell me about George and Alicia?" I asked.
"Why would I have to?" he asked defensively.
"Common courtesy," I retorted.
"Why does it matter?" he asked.
"I– I don't know," I stammered, my hands falling from my hips. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you two are in a fight and you supposedly bare no romantic feelings for him, so why would it be necessary to mention it to you?" he replied. "And there's the fact that he asked me not to tell you..."
"Now why would he do that?" I inquired.
"Oh, I dunno, Winnie," said Fred in an annoyed tone. "You tell me, because apparently everything I say is bullocks."
I sighed heavily. It wasn't Fred who I was furious with. It was just upset with coming face-to-face with Alicia and George together. If I had been placed in his situation I would have done the same thing. I stepped forward and wrapped my arm around his waist so he could sling his arm over my shoulder and pull me against him for a mock hug.
"I'm sorry," I conceded. "It's not you I'm mad at."
"I know, mate," he smirked, rubbing my upper arm affectionately. "I know."
"Er– sorry to interrupt, but Winnie dear," a familiar voice interrupted. Arthur was peeking his head out through the flap. "May I have a quick word?"
"Sure, Arthur," I nodded, releasing Fred and allowing him to follow me back into the tent only to see Alicia fiddling with George's shaggy red hair. I gagged and rolled my eyes at them.
Arthur pulled me aside by the stove (that he still had not figured out how to start) and lowered his voice to speak to me, leaning in.
"Molly and I have been corresponding with Dumbledore about your er–" he began delicately.
"Me being a Seer or whatever," I frowned, sighing heavily.
"Well, yes," he said, surprised with my response. "We were concerned for you, but I insisted you would talk about it with us when you were ready. That's why you weren't pressed for information in our letters. However, I also know you, and how you downplay everything no matter the severity, so I had to indulge my curiosity. So how are you doing, Winnie?"
"I'm fine," I said simply. "I'm not letting the reality of my situation get the better of me."
"Situation?" Arthur scoffed. "I think it's a bit more than just a situation. Winnie, do you even realize how rare of a gift this is, how lucky you are?"
"I wish everyone would quit trying to convince me this is some sort of a blessing," I replied. "I don't want this burden on me."
"I understand you're frightened–"
"I'm not frightened of it," I interrupted. "I'm angry. I'm angry I have to live with nightmares so terrifying that I wake up screaming for my mother. I'm angry I have no idea whether a dream is just a dream or if I'm having another vision. I'm angry I despise going to sleep. I'm angry this is happening to me."
"I understand," he said.
"With no offense intended, Arthur, you don't understand," I said despondently. "You can't, no one can. I just can't wait to figure out how to control it, for everything to be alright again if that's even possible."
"It will be," said Arthur kindly, pulling me into a hug. "You're going to be alright, sweetheart, trust me."
Like it always did, Arthur's simple gesture made me feel much better.
"Thanks, Arthur," I said, hugging him back as he petting the top of my head.
–
I spent my time waiting for the trio to bring back water by sitting awkwardly next to Fred, watching Arthur attempt to start a fire all the while Alicia and George played tonsil hockey. I tried not to look at them, knowing that was what they wanted. I kept speaking erratically to Fred about nonsense, and I could tell he knew what I was trying to do. Finally, Harry, Ron and Hermione returned with the water we needed, giving me an excuse to speak normally by greeting them theatrically.
"You've been ages," said George when they finally got back to the tent.
"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down after hugging me. "You've not got that fire started yet?"
"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred.
Arthur was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.
"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.
"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.
At last he got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while we waited, however. Our tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Arthur cordially as they passed. Arthur kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harry's and Hermione's benefit; his own children, me included, knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.
"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office… Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now… Hello, Arnie… Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know… and that's Bode and Croaker… they're Unspeakables…"
"They're what?" asked Harry.
"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to…" said Arthur.
At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.
"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"
I hadn't seen Bill in over a year, and I was jealous they all had gotten the chance to see him before me. I leaped up into his arms and hugged him tightly. He picked me up off the ground and placed a sloppy kiss on my cheek. He set me back on the ground and held me by the shoulders, looking me up and down.
"I'm sorry, Miss," he teased. "Have we met before? You look an awful lot like this girl I know, Winnie McKinnon, but you look much too grown-up to be her."
"Shut up, Bill," I laughed, punching his arm. "I missed you too."
That was his way of telling me he missed me. I scooted to the second oldest Weasley boy and hugged Charlie, who ruffled my hair in response.
"Hey Freddie," said Charlie. "What happened to you, you look right pretty?"
"Gee thanks, Charlie," I smirked.
"I just mean, I've never seen you in a skirt before," he laughed. "If I were a few years younger–"
I elbowed him in the gut, knowing he was joking.
"And your sexuality switched from dragons to women," I teased. "We'd be a perfect couple."
I turned to Percy as if I was about to hug him but instantly ceased my motion and hugged my own chest instead.
–
We were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Arthur jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them.
"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"
Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person I'd had seen so far. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, I thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.
"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.
"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "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!"
Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air. Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression. I rolled my eyes beside Fred, spotting George do the same thing from across the table.
"Ah - yes," said Arthur, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny, Winnie McKinnon, then Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."
Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead. I felt bad for Harry, feeling a sudden pang of pain in my own scar. I knew my scar was noticeable, and I understood how he felt when people noticed it especially when Harry's is so infamous.
"Everyone," he continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets -"
Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.
"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "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 weeklong match."
"Oh… go on then," said Arthur. "Let's see… a Galleon on Ireland to win?"
"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well… any other takers?"
"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Arthur. "Molly wouldn't like -"
"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."
My eyes grew so wide that I was surprised they didn't fall out of their sockets. My jaw dropped as I nudged Fred so hard that I thought I may have broken his rib. I leaned in low so my lips were beside his ear as he organized their coins.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" I hissed. "Betting your savings on a Quidditch match!"
"It's a sure thing," Fred said, leaning his elbows forward on the table to look over at me.
"Nothing is ever a sure thing," I insisted quietly.
"Stop being such a worrywart, and get one of the trick wands from your bag," said Fred, flashing me his infamous crooked grin.
I released a heavy sigh, signaling my concession and bent over to pull out a trick wand from my bag. I reluctantly placed the wand into Ludo's pudgy fingers, his childish curiosity increasing.
"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that," Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.
"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"
Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.
"Boys," said Arthur, "I don't want you betting… That's all your savings… Your mother -"
"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want!"
"Age doesn't necessarily transfer to maturity level," I mumbled under my breath.
"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..." said Ludo.
Arthur and I looked on helplessly as Ludo whipped out a notebook and a quill and began jotting down the twins' names.
"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes. Bagman looked down at me for a quick second, apparently realizing that I may be a foolish better like my two mates.
"What about you, my dear?" he smiled. "Care to put a wager on the match like your two...boyfriends?"
I immediately slammed my heel atop Ginny's foot to stop her from giggling like a buffoon.
"No, I think betting mass amounts of money is simply disgraceful," I said so bluntly that Ludo didn't even know what hit him.
"You're kidding," said Bagman in more of a statement than a question.
"If I was kidding I'd be wearing robes like your—"
"Winnie!" Arthur interjected suddenly to silence my insult, standing from his seat. "You forget some people aren't accustomed to your ever so unique sense of humor. She's only joking. Right, Winnie?"
"You know me," I conceded for Arthur's sake. "I'm just a barrel full of laughs."
The twins eyes were illuminated by the self-gratification they had received from the bet they had just placed. I turned my attention away from Arthur and Ludo and back onto Fred and George.
"We all know Ludo Bagman is right git, even if you do win your little bet, I wager he won't even pay you," I said to Fred, though I meant both of them to hear me.
"Have a bit of faith in people, Freddie," Fred teased lightheartedly. "Besides if we do lose our money we'll just borrow from you—"
"You already owe me a small fortune," I said, rolling my eyes and sporting a faint smirk.
"Lighten up, Winnie," Alicia interrupted, acting as George's spokesperson because he still refused to act as if I exist let alone speak to me. "The boys know what they're doing."
"Oh, shut up, Alicia," I said indifferently, swatting my wrist at her. "Quit trying to be a kiss ass. Fred will loathe you no matter how much fake support you toss his way."
"She's got a point, Leesh," Fred shrugged.
"George!" Alicia objected.
"What, would you prefer I tell her I disagree?" asked Fred to his twin before George could retort. "Then I'd just be a liar, George, and I'd much rather be a prick than a liar."
I smiled at Alicia with a victorious grin and turned back to the scene before us.
"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying," said Bagman. "Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."
"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll…"
"Anyone can speak Troll," said George dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."
Percy threw George an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.
"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" asked Arthur as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside us all.
"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha… memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."
"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Arthur suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.
"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh - talk of the devil! Barty!"
A wizard had just Apparated at the fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished. I could see at once why Percy idolized him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager.
"Pull up a bit of grass, Barry," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.
"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."
"Oh is that what they're after?" said Ludo. "I thought the chap was trying to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent, you know."
"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, knocking George roughly into me as he pushed through the three of us to get to Crouch. My skin stung from where he bumped into me. Percy sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like the bloody Hunchback of Notre Dame. "Would like a cup of tea, sir?"
"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes — thank you, Weatherby."
Fred, George, and I snorted loudly in unison. Our day had been made. Percy, now very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.
"I don't think Crouch is aware that he just made Christmas come early," said George, leaning over to Fred.
"He's successfully wrapped Percy's ego up in a bow and bestowed it upon us to demolish," I smirked, crossing my arms over my chest gaudily.
"It's the gift that keeps on giving," Fred whispered, one side of his mouth curled up in a grin.
"So, keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.
"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."
"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" Mr. Weasley asked.
Ludo looked utterly shocked.
"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun…Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"
Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman in a seemingly threatening manner. I looked at Fred, receiving a bewildered stare and a shoulder shrug.
"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details—"
"Oh, details!" Bagman said as if Barty was making a big deal out of nothing, "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts—"
"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," Crouch snapped sharply, cutting Ludo's remarks short. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."
Crouch took a quick final sip from his cup and swiftly exited the tent, the silent Ludo Bagman in toe. The eight of us who were still in school were so overwhelmed with curiosity that we could barely contain ourselves.
"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said George at once. "What were they talking about?"
"You'll find out soon enough," said Arthur, smiling slyly.
"Its classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," Percy said stiffly, "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."
"Oh, come now, Perce," I sighed, egging him on. "You usually have such stunningly superficial knowledge of what's going on that it's almost embarrassing to listen to you. What's got your mouth so constipated?"
"You know, Winifred, I am sick of you contradicting my position at the Ministry," said Percy, narrowing his gaze at me. "You act as if I am some sort of laughingstock of the department. Little do you know, I am a real asset."
"You're only off by two letters," said George under his breath.
Percy huffed loudly and curled his fingers up into tight fists, jerking his head quickly to Arthur.
"Dad, would you please tell them to leave me be?" Percy pleaded earnestly. "They haven't given me a moment's peace in ages."
"Percy, you're just being paranoid," said Arthur, pouring water over the fire.
"I am only paranoid because they're all out to get me!" he said, creating a joke without any intention.
"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.
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A/N: I know, I know this was embarrassingly dreadful. I had loads of trouble writing this for some reason. It may be because the next chapter is making me very excited. So much happens, and I can't wait to write it.
Coming Soon: Quidditch World Cup is in full swing, Winnie's vision comes true, two lives are saved, George organizes his priorities, suspicions arise, chaos and hilarity ensue...
PS: YOU ARE ALL AMAZING! Seriously, all of you are my heroes. I got 40 reviews on Chapter 1, shattering my record for reviews on one chapter. THANK YOU! Here are my shout-outs of thanks to all of you wonderful readers. I love you all. Help me reach 60 reviews :)
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SHOUT OUT SATURDAY
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THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH TO:
Anne-On-A-Moose, Layla, KateandGibbs, BANDN3RD, Perdyflower92, nekuranekomegami, spannieren, FredsLastLaugh, PurpleMonkeyDishwashers, mmmgirl13, booklover555, ValFish, Hufflepuff4ever, sage1993, thenewthingx
angel2: I've got a plan for all that, no worries ;) Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you're like it.
Kagehana013: There wouldn't be any angst or excitement if I didn't leave cliffhangers! I'm glad you think my writing is improving. Thanks so much :)
Jillian Mastrano 101: Thanks and I agree with you :)
Weasleygirl31: Thanks && I had to have her miss the Burros... it's just so her :) Thanks for reviewing!
Ellenyarai: Thank you so much! It seems like everyone wants them to end up together! I'm pleased :)
InsignificantBlimp: I can barely see it either, but I had to for plot purposes. Thanks so much for commenting :)
u n c a n n y obscurities: Never trust a lady in a skirt? Haha! I love that! I hate Alicia too and George is acting like a hussy! Thanks for your review I loved it :)
IluvKellanForever: Thanks so much! George is being a git, and I think Winnie's verbal attacks on Alicia are going to have to do... for now ;)
WhisperInTheRain: I'm happy you're on Team Genie :) Thanks for your review!
Star-Crossed Hearts: Love your name first off. Second off, I'm bringing them together in a dramatic way, count on that. I'm scared to let Fred get too involved because I don't want him to wildly be on Winnie's side because George is still his twin... you'll see ;) Thanks for reviewing so much :)
fanny-kun: Thanks so much && George is being a total git... for now ;)
sort of proud: Winnie is being straight up stupid, but things will sort themselves out soon enough :) Thanks for reviewing!
Kailie: I'm so happy you like both couplings! Thanks for reviewing :)
itsalljustalie: I didn't have Ollie meet Bill and Charlie in this chapter because he already knows Charlie (because they went to school together and they were Quidditch teammates etc) but they'll meet in the future :) Thanks for reviewing!
Obsession-iz-a-good-thing: You'll have to wait about her breaking up with Oliver because no matter her goings-on with George, they still have a healthy relationship. Also, she does know it was Igor and Travers who killed her family. Thanks for reviewing :)
tonidepp16: You'll love the next chapter then. I can already tell. Thanks for reviewing!
Dahlia: I'm taking forever, and I'm sorry. My Dedushka is in the hospital, so I've just been busy up there and give myself a small amount of time to write each day. He should be out soon, so I'll be beta-ing a.s.a.p. Thanks for reviewing && Winnie in a skirt? I hate it too!
wiatch: I agree with everything you said and she knows that too. Thanks for reviewing :)
Kumori Gem: I'm glad you feel like that about Oliver and noticed his M.I.A. I'm trying to subliminally toss some of his selfish actions out there for future incidents. && you're a genius because Alicia was the unpleasant surprise... I mean she is just so gosh darn unpleasant, right? Thanks for commenting!
Shrimp Chip: They're all being idiots, I agree, but that's 16 year old teens! Haha. Anyways, I've always loved Oliver too. He's so damn funny. Thanks for your review!
Hadley Conlon: Hey amazing writer, you rock! Thanks for reviewing, I always love yours :)
XxXTwilight-SinXxX: He totally did, and thanks so much for commenting!
OurLoveIsForever: Thanks for reviewing and as much as it frustrates you, I'm glad Winnie is driving you crazy because I want her to for the moment being. I think you'll enjoy Chapter 2 :)
Misssyl: Thanks so much for reviewing and as much as I like Winnie and George together I still love Winnie and Oliver :)
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Thanks so much to all of you!
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Review, please :)
