Where do Wizards Go For Holidays?
Chapter 1—The Departure
Disclaimer
I do not own any of the characters that may be mentioned in this fanfiction, nor will I ever. They belong to the beautiful and talented J.K. Rowling.
"Ginny, come on already! He'll be there when we get back."
"I know that, Ronald. It's just… He'll be lonely and frightened."
"Are you mad? He's a bloody cat!"
Ginny picked up Crookshanks, the cat in question, and set him down on her bed, which he had adopted as his own.
"Ronald, I'll be down in a minute." Ginny needed to pack the rest of her necessities in her trunk so that they could be on their way. She picked up her summer robes—old, black satin robes which her lined in cherry red, her favorite color—and placed them gingerly in her trunk. Her pink and green bathing suit sat in a tangle at the foot of her bed, waiting to be folded and placed on top of her other clothes. Her diary, one reminiscent of Riddle's, was at the bottom of the trunk, its covers wrapped with blue fabric. Ginny looked at the aforementioned book with trust and love, like an old friend.
All the while, Ron, Hermione, and Harry waited in the foyer of the Granger's home. Hermione's house was, in one word, overwhelming. It was tall and magnificent, like a doctor's house should. Except, since there were two doctors living there, it was twice as magnificent. They had fancy cars, like Maseratis and Ferraris. They had fancy artwork hanging on the walls and standing in the halls. Fancy furniture sat in the sitting room just to look pretty. The only thing missing was the sense of magic, such as the sense one would get as they walk into the Weasley home. They did have, however, a sense of family and friendliness. If one were to walk into their home, they would immediately feel safe and warm; far away from any harm.
"Ginny, are you ready yet? We need to go! Check in time was five minutes ago!" Ron stamped his foot on the last word in impatience, as he always did when his little sister exasperated him.
"Ronald, don't get your knickers in a twist, we will get there in due time." Ginny smiled as she placed two last articles of clothing in her trunk—a very low cut clubbing shirt she had bought with Hermione two days prior and very short shorts. She had wanted to prove to her older and protective brother that she was indeed a young woman rather than a young child. Ginny walked down stairs with her head held high, much like siblings do when they are trying to show who's better than the other.
"Well, you four best be going," recommended Mrs. Granger, "you wouldn't want your rooms to be given up, do you?" She gave them a motherly nudge towards the back of the house, where no one could hear them outside. "Hermione, you know what you're doing, right?" Mrs. Granger does not trust portkeys, since she really had no clue as to what they were.
"Don't worry, please. We'll get there fine." Hermione put a gentle hand on her mother's shoulder. "Somebody will help us if we need assistance." Hermione smiled at her mother and motioned for her friends to mill around her. "Remember, we must all be touching the book for this to work, ok?" She glanced around at Ron, Harry, and Ginny to see if they nodded or acknowledged her comment, which they did. "On the count of three," Mrs. Granger laced her fingers together in a nervous fashion. "One," Hermione and Ron moved closer together, "two," Ginny held Harry's hand, who in turn held Hermione's, "three." An echoing boom sounded throughout the house, and Mrs. Granger let out a small yelp of surprise at the noise.
Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny spiraled through a wormhole of sorts. Bright color danced and flashed around their heads, as if carrying them to their destination. They all knew how they worked and had traveled by portkey on numerous occasions. They just could not help feeling strange and almost frightened by it. It just wasn't normal, not that anything in the wizarding world is normal.
They landed with a hard and surprising thud in the middle of what seemed to be a parking lot in front of a large building. Palm tress lined the roads and walkways, along with tropical flowers glowing with neon colors. Parrots flew over peoples' heads, squaking to each other as if singing a melodious tune.
"I guess we've made it, then," whispered Harry.