Welcome to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Not much to explain except for...
Disclaimer: No ownership of HP save for OC's.
With that, here's...
Chapter 6: The World Cup Awaits
Enjoy, one and all!
Marcus Williams was never a big fan of dreams and that night was no exception.
He found himself in Paris again, although it must've been a little bit later than the last time, because he looked at the little girl, who was full of laughter and smiles before, but now had a frown on her face.
"What's wrong," he asked her. He didn't like seeing her like this. She wasn't any fun to be around when she wasn't smiling.
Sitting on the same park bench from before, the Eiffel Tower overlooking them, she said, "I heard from my parents that your parents are making their final move tonight. That means we won't be able to have fun in the park very soon."
"Oh," he said. No wonder she felt sad, he thought.
He forced a smile and said, "Don't worry! We'll still have fun together!"
She looked at him, confused, and said, "How?"
"Well, we might be far apart soon," he told her. "But, we'll still always have fun, as long as we keep it here."
He placed his right hand on his heart. She mimicked the same movement and said, "Here?"
"Yes, there!" he exclaimed. "Our fun will never end as long as we keep our time together in our hearts!"
He then hugged her from behind and said, "And, even if it is years, one day, we will meet again. And, when we do, let's have fun all over again."
He then planted a kiss on her left cheek.
He then took his place on the park bench, looking at the girl, who was blushing very deeply.
"Oh, Mar-kees!" said the girl, still blushing.
As he smiled once more, he suddenly felt himself being pulled into the dark abyss...
Marcus awoke with a start, sitting up and panting. That was the second time he dreamed of being in Paris when he had no recollection of going there in the first place. It was starting to freak him out.
He looked at the time and knew that Mrs. Weasley was going to come up to the attic at any minute. Forgoing any more sleep, he got dressed in a normal t-shirt, athletic pants, sweatshirt over his t-shirt, and sneakers, grabbed his ticket parchment and made his way down to the kitchen.
Once he did, he saw Mrs. Weasley laying out everyone else's ticket parchments. Mrs. Weasley saw Marcus and said, "I had a feeling you'd be up already. Sit tight in the kitchen for me while I get everyone else up."
Marcus nodded and took a seat, immersing himself in his own thoughts, trying to decipher just what on earth that dream could've meant.
However, his immersion was cut short when the other boys came down the stairs, Mr. Weasley appearing next to him, wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.
"What d'you think?" Mr. Weasley asked Harry anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito - do I look like a Muggle, Harry?"
"Yeah," said Harry, who was smiling. "Very good."
"Yeah, if a Muggle had gone insane," thought Marcus, grateful for his parents making him spend his younger years around Muggles.
"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" said George, failing to stifle a huge yawn.
"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" said Mrs. Weasley, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to lade porridge into bowls. "So they can have a bit of a lie-in."
"So they're still in bed?" said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward him. "Why can't we Apparate too?"
"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "And where have those girls got to?"
She bustled out of the kitchen and they heard her climbing the stairs.
"You have to pass a test to Apparate?" Harry asked.
"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley, who tucked the tickets safely into the back pocket of his jeans. "The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done properly it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I'm talking about went and splinched themselves."
Marcus winced immediately, having remembered the time he accompanied his dad to an accident in the States and saw one take place before his eyes.
"Er - splinched?" said Harry.
"They left half of themselves behind," said Mr. Weasley, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. "So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they'd left behind..."
"Were they okay?" a startled Harry asked.
"Oh, yes," said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly. "But they got a heavy fine, and I don't think they'll be trying it again in a hurry. You don't mess around with Apparition. They are plenty of adult wizards who don't bother with it. Prefer brooms - slower, but safer."
"But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?" Harry asked.
"Charlie had to take the test twice," said Fred, grinning. "He failed the first time, Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"
"Yes, well, he passed the second time," said Mrs. Weasley, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers.
"Percy only passed two weeks ago," said George. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can."
Marcus heard footsteps down the passageway and Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy.
"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table.
"We've got a bit of a walk," said Mr. Weasley.
"Walk?" said Harry. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"
"No, no, that's miles away," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup -"
"George!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, and they all jumped, including Marcus, who instinctively summoned his wand.
"What?" said George, in an innocent tone that would fool no one.
"What is that in your pocket?"
"Nothing!"
"Don't you lie to me!"
Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, "Accio!"
Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hand.
"We told you to destroy them!" said Mrs. Weasley furiously, holding up what were unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"
As Marcus allowed his wand to shoot back up his left sleeve, he found himself looking on a rather unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley managed to find them all.
"Accio! Accio! Accio!" she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans.
"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.
"Oh a fine way to spend six months!" she shrieked. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L's!"
Marcus couldn't wait to get on his way to the World Cup, the atmosphere was that intense. Mrs. Weasley was still glowering as she kissed Mr. Weasley on the cheek, though not nearly as much as the twins, who had each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without a word to her.
"Well, have a lovely time," said Mrs. Weasley, "and behave yourselves," she called after the twins' retreating backs, but the did not look back or answer. "I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday," Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley, as he, Marcus, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off across the dark yard after Fred and George.
Marcus felt the familiar chill of the early morning brisking his face and the light of the moon still bathing him as they walked. The only indication that daybreak was approaching was a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to their right. Marcus was walking alongside Mr. Weasley, but hardly said a word to him. He kept mostly to himself around this time of the day.
Suddenly, he saw Harry approaching the other side of Mr. Weasley and he heard him ask, "So, how does everyone get there without all the Muggles noticing?"
"It's been a massive organizational problem," sighed Mr. Weasley. "The trouble is, about a hundred thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of course, we just haven't got a magical site big enough to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles can't penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or platform nine and three-quarters. So we had to find a nice deserted moor, and set up as many anti-Muggle precautions as possible. The whole Ministry's been working on it for months. First, of course, we have to stagger the arrivals. People with cheaper tickets have to arrive two weeks beforehand. A limited number use Muggle transport, but we can't have too many clogging up their buses and trains - remember, wizards are coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, of course, but we have to set up safe points for them to appear, well away from Muggles. I believe there's a handy wood they're using as the Apparition point. For those who don't want to Apparate, or can't, we use Portkeys. They're objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Staotshead Hill, so that's where we're headed."
Mr. Weasley pointed ahead to a large black mass rising beyond the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.
"What sort of objects are Portkeys?" said Harry in a curious tone.
"Well, they can be anything," said Mr. Weasley. "Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them...stuff they'll just think is litter..."
They continued to trudge down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence only being broken by their own footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. In this eerie quiteness, Marcus was able to pick up on everything, even the creatures stepping on the ground of the nearby forest.
Finally, reaching the base of Stoatshead Hill, Marcus enhanced his vision and made his way up the hill, easily traversing out of the way of rabbit holes and tuffets of grass. He made it to the top of the hill first and had to wait for five minutes for everyone else to join him.
"Whew," panted Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time - we've got ten minutes..."
Finally, Hermione came over the crest of the hill, clutching a stitch in her side.
"Now we just need the Portkey," said Mr. Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big...Come on..."
Marcus, his vision still enhanced, easily spotted the Portkey, an old, decrepit boot sitting at the opposite side of the hill covered in a sky blue aura. He made his way to the boot when he saw two familiar people approaching it.
"Mr. Diggory!" Marcus exclaimed. "Cedric!"
Even though it had only been a couple of days max, Marcus was still really glad to see Cedric.
"How are you doing, Marcus?" Mr. Diggory asked him. "Looking forward to the match?"
"You bet!" Marcus responded with a smirk. "This will be a match to remember!"
"I know!" said Cedric. "U.S. All-Stars vs Bulgaria! Who would've thought it, huh?"
"Yeah, my thoughts exactly!" Marcus exclaimed. "U.S. All-Stars have never faced Bulgaria, not in a few years."
"Say, Marcus, what are they doing over there?" asked Mr. Diggory, pointing to Mr. Weasley and company.
"Oh, crap, they're looking for the Portkey," Marcus stated.
"Well, we can't have them wandering aimlessly," said Mr. Diggory. "Time is of the essence!" He then raised his voice, shouting, "Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"
"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to them, everyone else following closely behind.
As Mr. Weasley shook hands with Mr. Diggory, he said, "This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"
"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all.
Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. This attitude of theirs came as no surprise to Marcus, as they haven't exactly forgiven Cedric for beating Gryffindor in their first Quidditch match last school year.
"Long walk, Arthur?" Mr. Diggory asked.
"Not too bad," said Mr. Weasley. "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..." Mr. Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. "All these your, Arthur?"
"Oh no, only the redheads," said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron's - and Harry, another friend -"
"Merlin's beard," said Mr. Diggory, his eyes widening. "Harry? Harry Potter?"
"Er - yeah," said Harry.
Marcus saw the familiar glance-at-Harry's-lightning-shape-scar movement from Mr. Diggory before the man said, "Ced's talked about you, of course. 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!"
Marcus facepalmed himself from the lack of tact Mr. Diggory showed, but he was the only one that openly showed it. Harry remained silent while Fred and George scowled. Cedric looked embarrased, muttering to his dad, "Harry fell off his broom, Dad. I told you...it was an accident..."
"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" roared Amos genially, slapping his son on the back. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman...but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"
"Must be nearly time," said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"
"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"
"Not that I know of," said Mr. Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off...We'd better get ready..."
Mr. Weasley looked at Harry and Hermione and said, "You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do -"
With great difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the ten of them crowded around the old boot held out by Mr. Diggory.
Marcus was getting more irritated by the second, having the chill breeze sweeping over the hilltop and past his face, grasping the toe of the boot. The silence was deafening and Marcus was hoping that no Muggles were wandering around here and happened to glance at ten people, two of which were grown men, grabbing an old boot in the middle of the morning, waiting...
"Three..." muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, "two...one..."
It happened suddenly; Marcus felt the unwanted tug on his naval, himself jerking irresistably forward. His feet left the ground, along with everyone else's. He could feel Cedric and Hermione's shoulders banging into his, making the task of holding onto the boot that much more tasking. Speeding foward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Marcus just wanted it to end when -
His feet suddenly slammed into the ground and, before anyone could slam into him, he leaped backwards in the air to avoid the collision that took place. He landed next to Cedric, who looked, alongside Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory, very windswept.
"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.
And that concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review, as that always helps me fine tune my skills as a writer. Also, if you wanted to ask me any questions, feel free to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer your questions to the best of my ability. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the latest chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!
