Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but my OC's are mine.
Chapter Ten
It was quiet. A pin could drop and you'd be able to hear it. Emptiness filled the Soares manor since the day Ira returned home for summer vacation before her second year at Hogwarts. The heartbreaking news of Pierrette's passing was all it took to suck the remaining life out of her family. Ira's soul chipped away over the past two years, her heart exhausting all it had to offer.
She barely talked to her father, but when she did, it was only over dinner in an effort to make some kind of small-talk. He'd taken Pierrette's passing harder than anyone. His children understood. Maybe not Freya, because she was too young, but Ira and Rhys knew that it was hard for him to hear that his wife had died. They truly loved each other—even if it didn't appear that way most of the time.
Ira clutched the necklace around her neck. It was the same one her mother gave her before boarding the Hogwarts Express in first year, the last token of her mother's love. It was the last time she ever saw her before she grew ill. Tears forced their way to the surface, but Ira vowed not to show weakness. She hated crying. She'd done it enough already.
Lady purred from her place on the coffee table, stretching out her feline limbs with grace before dozing back to sleep. Ira gave a small smile. Besides Freya, she still had her most loyal companion.
Speaking of Freya, she was the only one that made time for Ira. They always had a good bond growing up. Unfortunately, the young girl was always too busy in their mother's crafts room. For being eight years old, the girl could really paint. She had a gift, and Ira was envious of her skills. When Ira was gone for school and Sigrid worked long hours of the day, the house elves took care of her. The thought made Ira frown.
Rhys didn't come around as much anymore. After gaining an internship with Sigrid, he was always working with their father. He also moved out and lived on his own, so coming back home to the place where their mother once resided didn't sound too pleasing to him. Ira liked it better that way. After the funeral, Rhys closed himself off and only talked to Sigrid. The two were always close, Ira supposed. Whatever bonding happened during Ira's first year disappeared in an instant. It was as if she didn't exist to him anymore. She did have him to thank, though, for those endless practices on the Quidditch pitch. It was because of his help that Ira became one of the best chasers on Slytherin's team.
The thought of school didn't sound all too exciting. She'd be entering her fourth year already with her friends, who have been there for her since the very beginning. This included Sally-Anne, Lily, and Theo. The four of them were a dynamic foursome in the Slytherin house. Where one went, you'd find the other. They were always together.
But this didn't mean that Ira wasn't tied to anyone else.
Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Ira Soares—who knew that three years later they'd still be friends? Although they'd shared many hardships, they did go on many adventures together. From finding the Sorcerer's stone in first year to destroying Tom Riddle in their second year to finding out that Sirius Black was Harry's godfather and that Peter Pettigrew—Voldemort's most loyal servant—was sitting right under their noses the entire time during third year, the group had been through a lot. And that was only the half of it.
Besides all the happenings at Hogwarts, there was something else that Ira had been busy with.
Draco Malfoy. Or as Lily so gleefully puts it, "Draco Mal-foul."
You'd think that when they reached the ripe age of teenage status that Draco would come to his senses. He hadn't. In fact, he only got worse. He and his band of cronies made Ira's life a living hell, and that was putting it lightly. There wasn't a moment where they weren't making jabs at Ira or hexing her somehow. In second year, Draco and Pansy cornered Ira and casted a hair-loss curse. For hours, Ira was picking at her scalp while watching her lovely curls vanish between her fingers. Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey helped her regain her tresses and told her that she needed to tell someone about the bullying. Ira didn't. She knew she should've, but she didn't want to be a snitch and end up on an even worse end with Draco.
The front door slammed shut, causing Ira to snap back from her reverie.
"Dad?" she shouted.
Sigrid came into the living area wearing a blank look.
"You're home early," Ira pointed out.
"I must start packing for our trip to the Quidditch World Cup," he said flatly, picking a piece of lint off of his pristine black cloak. "I hope you've already packed."
"Uh, yeah, about that…" Ira fumbled over her words, wringing her hands together. "I'm going with the Weasley's. I leave tonight and we go tomorrow."
He was unfazed. "You are?"
"Yeah. I hope you don't mind. I know we usually go as a family, but the Weasley's invited me and I already told them I would."
"Hmmm. You know I don't like you hanging around with riff-raff such as the…Weasley's," he said their name as if it was poison on his tongue.
"Well, I'm friends with the Weasley's. You know this."
"Yes. I also know you're friends with that Potter boy and the Mudblood girl."
Ira grinded her teeth. "Don't say that."
His face hardened. "You're going with us. You will not stay with those vermin."
"Who's 'us' anyway?" Ira huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Lucius and Draco will be attending with you, Rhys, and me," he said simply. "It's already been finalized."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
Ira straightened. "I said no."
"You don't say no to me, young lady."
She jumped to her feet, fury washing over her. "Well, I just did. I'm going to stay with the Weasley's till the start of term and I am going to the game with them." Her anger was so strong, the room started to vibrate with her power. Oh, yeah, Ira was also getting stronger by the day. It especially came out when she didn't have control over her emotions.
Sigrid sighed, knowing how stubborn Ira could be. "So be it. And knock that off, you'll end up breaking something."
Ira smiled, calming down as Sigrid walked off towards his office.
Lady meowed.
"See, Lady, I'm not to be messed with." Ira grabbed her kneazle. "Now, let's go upstairs and get ready."
While Ira got dressed into something more fitting to go out into public with, she looked into her full length mirror to address her appearance. She frowned. Like most girls when they turned thirteen, they were awarded with curves and a chest. Ira, however, was fourteen and still as skinny as a rail. The gods didn't grace her with anything worth drooling over. She envied Pansy Parkinson and even her own friend Sally. Those girls grew into themselves over the years, and they were pretty much all the school talked about if it wasn't over Harry Potter. Ira was self-conscious. The only thing remotely appealing—to her—was maybe her hair. Ira tilted her head to the side. Nope, not even that was attractive.
Ira groaned. She hid her discomfort well, though, blaming her unattractiveness on the fact that she was too busy to care about looks. Her friends thought differently. They thought Ira was beautiful. She'd snort and tell them they were crazy.
After getting ready and tucking Lady into her carrier, Ira grabbed her trunk and walked into the fireplace situated on the far side of her bedroom after throwing floo powder towards the wood.
"The Burrow!" she shouted, feeling herself squeeze under a pressure she'd gotten used to.
Pretty soon, after passing by multiple fireplaces in a blurry stare, she fell out of the Weasley's fireplace into their kitchen. She yelped.
"Oi, hello, Ira," George Weasley—or maybe it was Fred?—greeted.
He and his twin were standing by their parents. Molly Weasley looked as if she'd swallowed something sour, glaring at her boys. Ira must've come at the wrong moment.
"Sorry, did I…interrupt something?" she asked quietly, picking up her things.
There were two other people in the room with red hair and freckled faces. They must've been Bill and Charlie, the two oldest brothers in the Weasley family.
Molly's glare softened as she turned to hug Ira. "Hello, dear. The boys here have been up to no good, as you can suspect."
"Oh, really?" Ira bit back a chuckle as she glanced at the twins. "That doesn't sound like them at all."
They rolled their eyes playfully as Molly went back to berating them.
"I'm just going to go find the others," Ira said, taking her things with her.
"They should be upstairs," Arthur offered.
Ira followed the zigzagging stairs until she heard her friends behind Ron's bedroom door. His room was nestled on the very top of their house. She was in there a few times over the years when she came over.
"Er—why are you calling that owl Pig?" Harry asked.
"Because he's being stupid," Ginny—the youngest Weasley—said, "Its proper name is Pigwidgeon."
"Yeah, and that's not a stupid name at all," Ron said, his words laced with sarcasm. "Ginny named him. She reckons it's sweet. And I tried to change it, but it was too late, he won't answer to anything else. So now—"
Ira swung open the door without knocking, stopping Ron mid-sentence as her friends watched her walk inside.
"Hello, friends," Ira smiled.
"Ira!" The first person to hug her was Hermione, followed by Harry. His hugs were always so comforting.
After stepping back, Ira laughed at how tall Harry had gotten, as well as how long his hair was too. Ira feared she'd never grow another inch.
"Why are you laughing?" Harry asked.
"You're just…you look different."
Harry's face scrunched up.
"A good different," Ira said quickly. "Really, really good. You look very handsome, Harry." Her cheeks flared. Where had that come from?
If she'd been paying attention, she would have caught Ginny scowling at her.
Ron rolled his eyes and continued after also sharing a quick hug with Ira, turning back to the tiny owl by the windowsill. "So now he's Pig. I've got to keep him up here because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me too, come to that."
"Aw, he's adorable," Ira commented after taking a seat on the edge of Ron's bed.
Harry nodded, looking at Hermione. "Where's Crookshanks?"
"Out in the garden, I expect," Hermione said. "He likes chasing gnomes. He's never seen any before."
Speaking of animals, Ira released Lady from her confinement and allowed her to roam.
"How was your summer, Harry?" Ira asked.
Hermione butted in. "Yeah, did you get our food parcels and everything?"
"Yeah, thanks a lot," Harry said. "They saved my life, those cakes."
"And have you heard from—?" Ron started to ask, but Ira and Hermione pierced him with a look that made him silent. It wasn't a good idea to ask about Sirius with Ginny in the room. The girl hardly knew anything about what had transpired in their third year. It'd be dangerous to say anything.
Hermione perked up. "I think they've stopped arguing." She meant Arthur, Molly, and the twins. "Shall we go down and help your mum with dinner?"
They agreed to go downstairs. When they did, the girls were ordered to help set up the plates outside. There wasn't enough room in the Burrow to seat twelve people, so they decided to eat in the garden.
Ira followed Hermione outside. When they got to the gardens, Bill and Charlie had animated two old tables into the air. They smashed into each other, trying to catch one off guard. Fred and George cheered while Ginny laughed. Ira couldn't help but laugh too. Magic was an amazing thing.
After Bill's table banged into Charlies, Percy Weasley yelled from a second floor window. "Will you keep it down?"
"Sorry, Perce," Bill grinned. "How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?"
Ira nudged Hermione. "Cauldron bottoms?"
"Long story," she whispered back.
Soon after the boys put the tables down and put white tablecloths on the tables' surface, Mrs. Weasley bustled outside with dishes following her in the air. It was almost dark by then so they lit some candles around the space. Ira took a seat between Harry and Ron, piling her plate high with Molly's delectable food.
Each of them engaged in different topics that night. From top-secret events to Molly complaining about Bill's earring, there was so much to listen to. Ira wished she had family dinners like this one. Hers didn't have the adamant chatter or laughing fits. All that you heard was silverware on precious china.
Ira tuned into a conversation about the World Cup.
"It's got to be Ireland," Charlie said with a mouthful of food. "They flattened Peru in the semifinals."
"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," Fred said.
"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven," Charlie pointed out. "I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was."
"What happened?" Harry asked, looking excited to hear about it. Ira smiled.
"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten," Charlie said. "Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg."
While they went back to eating and talking about the Cup, Ron moved in closer to Harry, whispering. "So—have you heard from Sirius lately?"
Ira and Hermione listened in.
"Yeah," Harry began, "twice. He sounds okay. I wrote to him yesterday. He might write back while I'm here." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he got quiet.
Molly stood from her seat, checking her wrist. "Look at the time. You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you you'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup; the match went on for five days last time."
"Wow—hope it does this time!" he said.
"Well, I certainly don't," Percy stated. "I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."
"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" Fred chuckled.
"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" Percy was red with embarrassment. "It was nothing personal!"
"It was," Fred whispered to Ira and Harry as he got up from the table. "We sent it."
In the early morning, Ira was shaken awake by Molly Weasley. She slept in Ginny's room on the floor next to Hermione, who was already awake and getting dressed. Ira wanted to curl back up and sleep, but Molly wasn't having it.
Ira pulled on some Muggle attire for the trip. They needed to go incognito as Arthur put it. If Ira had been with her father for the match, they wouldn't need to wear Muggle clothing. He would be against it more than anything.
They dressed quickly before descending the stairs into the kitchen. The boys were already awake.
"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny asked.
"We've got a bit of a walk," Arthur said.
"Walk?" Harry was confused. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"
"No, no, that's miles away," Arthur smiled. "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!" Molly yelled as she looked at the boy.
"What?" George said innocently.
"What is that in your pocket?"
"Nothing!"
"Don't you lie to me!"
Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at him. "Accio!"
Bright little objects sped out of George's pockets.
"We told you to destroy them!" Molly, angry, marched towards them. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets; go on, both of you!" They didn't move a muscle. "Accio! Accio! Accio!"
"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted, watching as Molly threw them out.
"Oh a fine way to spend six months!" she yelled. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"
That silenced the twins.
When they left, Molly kissed her children and Arthur goodbye, even if she still looked at the twins like more toffees would sprout out of nowhere.
The air was chilly when they started walking. Ira had pulled on a—what was it called again?—hoodie? It was a type of Muggle jacket that you pulled over your head. Kind of like a sweater. It had a hood and pockets that Ira nestled her hands into.
Harry was walking close to her the entire way, making idle chat with Arthur about portkeys. Ira never encountered one herself, but she knew that it suited people that couldn't or didn't like Apparition. It was masked from the Muggle eye as garbage, something they wouldn't choose to come close to.
They walked along the lane through Ottery St. Catchpole as the sky brightened slightly, signaling day break. All the walking weighed Ira down, breathing in great puffs of air through her lungs. Finally, they made it to Stoatshead Hill.
"Whew," Mr. Weasley breathed. "Well, we've made good time—we've got ten minutes. Now we just need the Portkey. It won't be big...Come on..."
As they dispersed in search of the portkey, someone yelled from somewhere behind them. Ira whipped around and found two figures standing by something on the ground.
"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it."
Arthur's face broke out in a smile as he shook the older man's hand. "Amos!"
The man had grabbed the thing from the ground—the portkey. It was a murky old boot.
"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," Mr. Weasley introduced. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"
Cedric Diggory was one of the most handsome kids at Hogwarts with shaggy brown hair and cool gray eyes. He was built for his role as Captain and Seeker for Hufflepuff's Quidditch team. Hermione and Ginny ogled him from the side. Ira would've too, but she wasn't interested.
"Hi," Cedric greeted coolly.
"Long walk, Arthur?" Amos asked.
"Not too bad," Arthur replied. "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 glanced around at the children. "All these yours, Arthur?"
"Oh no, only the redheads," Arthur laughed. "This is Hermione Granger, friend of Ron's , Ira Soares—I'm sure you know her father—and Harry, another friend—"
"Merlin's beard," Amos said, eyes widening. "Harry? Harry Potter?"
Oh, boy.
Harry nodded. "Uh, yeah."
"Ced's talked about you, of course," Amos said. "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!"
Cedric looked embarrassed while Harry remained silent, unable to speak a word to that.
"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," Cedric mumbled. "I told you...it was an accident..."
"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" Amos said happily. "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!"
Ouch, Ira thought with a cringe.
Mr. Weasley pulled a watch from his pocket, checking the time. "Must be nearly time—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. There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"
"Not that I know of. Yes, it's a minute off...We'd better get ready..."
After telling Harry and Hermione what to do, each of them placed their finger on the boot. Ira had grabbed Lady from her place between her legs and held her tightly in her arms. Almost immediately, after Arthur counted down, they were pulled into the portkey with a jerk. Ira's feet left the ground and she could feel the others bouncing into her. It was uncomfortable how fast they spiraled into the air. Then, she fell onto her back, a pain shooting upwards.
Looking around groggily, she came to the conclusion that they had indeed made it. Lady looked perfectly fine perched at her side, licking at her paw.
"You enjoy this, don't you?" Ira joked as her feline meowed.
She was the last one to her feet. Arthur was talking to a duo of wizards who held up a piece of parchment. She got closer and saw they were the wizards in charge of the campsites.
"Hello there, Arthur," one of them said. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some...We've been here all night...You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite...Weasley...Weasley…About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory...second field...ask for Mr. Payne."
"Thanks, Basil," Arthur said.
They followed him through a fog into a large campsite with several tents strung about. They stopped at a cottage before finding their tent. A muggle stood nearby.
"Morning!" Mr. Weasley greet, grinning from ear-to-ear.
"Morning," the man said.
"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"
"Aye, I would," Mr. Roberts said. "And who're you?"
"Weasley—two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"
"Aye, you've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"
"That's it."
"You'll be paying now, then?"
"Ah—right—certainly—" Mr. Weasley beckoned Harry to follow him away from the cottage as he fumbled about with paper bills in his hands—Muggle dollars.
Ira pet Lady while scanning the tents. It was crowded, for sure, and she wondered how they'd find their spot.
"Obliviate!"
Ira looked back to see that Arthur had already paid, and modified the man's memories. The man handed off a map of the site. Five other people had come as well, following their party to the gate. The man, who had purple shadows under his eyes, leaned in to talk to Arthur. Ira wasn't listening; she was only focused on finding their site and finding a place to sit down. Her legs were sore.
They started off again marching up and down rows of tents until they came across a sign pounded into the ground. It read: WEEZLY.
While Harry, Hermione, and Arthur put together the two tents the muggle way, Ira sat down on a large rock and watched them as they struggled. Somehow, by a miracle, they ended up achieving decent looking tents that looked like all the rest with no magic involved. Ira was impressed.
On the outside, the tents appeared small, but inside, they were like a house. This tent though, the one the boys were going to occupy, smelled of cats and was decorated like Ira's grandmother's house. The girls' tent wasn't as bad.
"We'll need water," Arthur said after picking up an empty kettle.
"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us. It's on the other side of the field," Ron said.
"Well, why don't you, Harry, Hermione, and Ira go and get us some water then—" Mr. Weasley gave them a few kettles "—and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"
"But we've got an oven," Ron protested. "Why can't we just -"
"Ron, anti-Muggle security! When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"
Ron shut up. He, Harry, Hermione, and Ira set out to search for water. Now the sun was shining high in the sky and the fog had disappeared. You could see in all directions just how many people came out for the World Cup. It was safe to say several thousand wizards were in attendance. Not that this surprised Ira.
They came across rows of tents decorated in shamrock green, obviously to support Ireland's team. The four of them ran into Seamus Finnegan and his friend Dean Thomas—both Gryffindor's in their year. Ira stayed silent as they talked for a few minutes. The Gryffindor's didn't really like her.
Walking closer to the water queue, they passed by the Bulgarian tents. Each of them had posters of the same boy on them; with heavy eyebrows and a stony stare. Victor Krum.
"Krum," Ron said in amazement.
"What?" Hermione asked, brows furrowed.
"Krum!" Ron said again. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"
"He looks really grumpy.
"Really grumpy? Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."
Soon they made it to the water tap to fill their kettles. After filling them and watching two older wizards talk about muggle clothing, they retreated back to their tent. Here and there the Gryffindor's ran into people they knew from school. Unfortunately, Ira didn't spot any Slytherins in the mix, and she didn't talk to many people outside of her own house so she stood by and let her friends mingle.
"Who d'you reckon they are?" Harry asked, jutting his chin in the direction towards a group of unfamiliar teenagers. "They don't go to Hogwarts, do they?"
"'Spect they go to some foreign school," Ron said. "I know there are others. Never met anyone who went to one, though. Bill had a pen friend at a school in Brazil...this was years and years ago...and he wanted to go on an exchange trip but Mum and Dad couldn't afford it. His pen friend got all offended when he said he wasn't going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up."
"Ira!"
Finally, a voice she recognized. She smiled when she saw Sally-Anne run towards her, causing Ira to splash water everywhere. Behind Sally, she saw Lily and Theo following.
The three hadn't changed much since third year. Lily was in the same boat as Ira when it came to looks. But where Ira was petite, her raven-haired friend was tall, almost as tall as Theo who stood taller over them all, even Harry. He gained more muscle, too, even though he didn't do much in school. It wasn't like he was on the Quidditch team or anything.
"Merlin's beard, look at you!" Sally gushed, twirling Ira around by one hand, while the girl balanced the kettle.
"Sally, you're going to make me sick," Ira said thought a laugh.
"Oops, sorry," she said sheepishly. "You're just so pretty! Look at you! You're going to give Pansy a good run for her money."
"Stop, Sally," Ira blushed.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron had stopped to watch the encounter, undoubtedly uncomfortable in the presence of three other Slytherins.
Ira glanced between all of her friends. "Do you mind if I catch up with them real quick?" the question was directed to her Gryffindor friends.
Harry offered Ira a tight smile. "No, go right ahead. I'll take your kettle back to the tent."
Thank Salazar that Harry wasn't as uptight as Ron would've been who seethed at the mere mention of Ira's Slytherin friends.
"Thank you," Ira smiled, handing off the kettle to Harry. Their hands brushed together for a moment, causing Ira to flinch back, hoping nobody but she noticed. What was going on with her?
As soon as they were gone, Sally linked arms with Ira and pulled her towards an extravagant tent that competed with every other in the vicinity.
"So, when'd you get here?" Sally asked after taking a seat on a leather couch.
"A little bit ago, I guess. I'm here with the Weasley's."
The three of them cringed.
"Guys," Ira moaned, "Don't be like that. You know they're my friends, Harry and Hermione included."
"And what was that back there, by the way?" Sally looked at Ira pointedly. "You blushed when you handed off that kettle to Harry."
"What? No…No I didn't." Ira's face heated up.
"You're blushing at the mention of it," Lily pointed out.
Ira glared at her. "You're not helping."
"Do you have a crush on the Boy Who Lived?" Sally prodded. "Don't worry, we won't judge."
"But you will," Ira said slowly.
"So, you do?" Sally jumped up dramatically. "That's…I don't know…adorable? I mean, I don't see the appeal myself, but I mean, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor…it could work."
Theo stepped in, coughing. "Anyway, why aren't you with your family, Ira?"
Ira leaned back. "Because the Weasley's invited me first…and Dad and Rhys are going with the Malfoy's so I wasn't interested in being glared at the entire night." She looked around. "Where's your parents, Sally?"
"I don't know. They're probably off talking to some other elitist family who's attending tonight." Then, Sally grabbed Ira's arm. "You should sit with us tonight. We've got the best seats."
"Sally…" Ira pried her arm off. "I would but I don't want to disrespect the Weasley's."
Sally pouted. "Okay, well, come find us afterwards. We're celebrating with firewhisky tonight." Her eyebrows wiggled suggestively.
"Sally, we're fourteen…we shouldn't be drinking. In fact, it's illegal."
"Oh, Ira, just be a Slytherin for a night and let loose, please?"
Ira would have to think about it. Thoroughly—before she made any decisions like that. Of course, many children their age drank alcohol already. It was even supplied at Slytherin's house parties.
The afternoon continued on as Ira caught up with her friends, even meeting Sally's parents who Ira found to be just as uptight as her own father was. Honestly, were all pureblood families like that besides the Weasley's? They intimidated Ira from the moment she met them until she stepped foot outside to go back to her tent.
Ira returned just in time for salespeople that apparated by the Weasley's' tents. She, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, stopped by as they sold souvenirs. Harry purchased three pairs of omnioculars—a wizarding item that were a lot like binoculars except they replayed action, slowed things down, and showed a play-by-play of everything happening. Ira bought her own pair as well as a green scarf in support of the Ireland team.
They returned to the tent to find everyone ready in sporting colors for the teams. Ira excitedly took the lead outside as a loud gong sounded from behind the forest. Lanterns lit up a path that took them straight to the stadium. Mr. Weasley turned to them, smiling.
"It's time! Come on, let's go!"
