As the party crested the small hill, the noon sun glanced off of their heads, a collage of colors shining in the light. A group of red, a dash of yellowish blonde, curly brown, and the straight black hairs of Harry Potter.

The boy in question frowned as the group came to a stop, halting in front of an old, worn out leather boot. It had definitely seen better days, with stains and hotels adorning its rugged exterior.

"Um… Mr. Weasley?"

Harry piped up, a tad unsurely.

"Is this … the stadium?"

"Hmm?"

Mr. Weasley looked back over his shoulder.

"No, this is our Portkey… Ah, Harry, have you and Hermione never taken a Portkey before?"

The two muggle raised friends shook their heads.

"Oho, well, it's basically another form of transportation, somewhat similar to Floo Travel and Apparition, but it can transport many people at the same time. Of course, it does have its drawbacks, because it can only travel to a single predetermined destination, unlike Apparition and Floo Travel, but for big events like the Quidditch World Cup, it's much more efficient."

Harry nodded quietly, then opened his mouth to speak. Before he could do so however, Hermione burst out, excitedly.

"Floo Travel? Apparition? Portkeys? Oh Mr. Weasley you have to tell me more. How do they work? What kind of magic is behind them? How can they be created? I've seen vague mentions about them in books, but nothing that really explains them. Also, books on Apparition are in the Restricted Section at the Hogwarts library, so I haven't been able to access them."

The boot shone brightly for a few seconds, cutting off Hermione's spiel. Mr. Weasley smiled apologetically.

"Sorry Hermione, explanations will have to wait. Everybody, gather 'round!"

A slight shoving battle ensued as the Lovegood family, Harry, Hermione and a good portion of the Weasley family all jockeyed for place around the Portkey.

"Couldn't they have used a nice long piece of rope…"

The mutter was lost to the scuffling of boots and grunting as the group managed to form a rough circle around the boot.

"Now, fingers on, everyone!"

Mr. Weasley once again called out instructions, his own hand reaching out to the laces of the boot. Bemused, Harry shrugged, slowly reaching for the Portkey himself.

"Harry hurry!"

Hermione's panicked voice came as the boot shone with light once again. Desperately, Harry reached for purchase, just making contact with the boot before it vanished.

Spinning. Nausea. Harry could feel his body being flung about, banged against the bodies of the people next to him. His eyes teared up, wind swirling around him. The tip of his finger was anchored to the boot, nearly tugging off his shoulder.

Then all of a sudden, it was over. Harry crashed into the ground, with an audible thud. Moaning, he lay there, trying to recover from another horrific method of Wizarding transport. Beside him, he could hear quiet retching. Slowly turning his face to the side, he saw Hermione, on her hands and knees, dry heaving into the grass. Next to her, Ron, his face an ashen white, was gently patting her on the shoulder.

Harry buried his face back into the grass.

"What… What was that? Never again… I'd rather walk the whole way…"

Harry found himself being lifted roughly up to his feet by the twins, grinning broadly on either side of him.

"Nonsense Harry, this -"

"Is an absolutely -"

"Spiffing method of -"

"Travel and you'll -"

"Get used to it -"

"After a few times."

Harry gave up trying to follow who was talking, shaking his head. He let his head fall down to his chest.

"I don't want to get used to this."

Shakily, Ron spoke up, from where he was gingerly supporting a visibly flustered Hermione.

"Cheer up Harry. Look up mate… it's the Quidditch World Cup."

Harry raised his head slowly, his eyes finally taking in the view from atop the small grassy knoll that their Portkey had brought them to.

In the distance, an enormous silver and white dome drew immediate attention. Gleaming like a polished pearl in the sun's rays, the stadium stood proudly in the center of an open clearing. Surrounding it were tents of every shape, size and color, with throngs of witches and wizards in a raucous mood. Fireworks were going off, and colorful smoke filled the air. Closer to the stadium, two distinct areas could be seen, one flying the green, white and orange of Ireland proudly, with tents bedecked with shamrocks and an eye popping amount of green. In the other, the white, green and red of Bulgaria were emblazoned proudly, with a dark crimson wave of tents standing in stark contrast to the bright green. A wave of sound hit the group, laughter echoing on the breeze, with the noises of joyous witches and wizards raising the mood of even the most Portkey-sick.

Ron gave a whoop, grinning broadly, having already forgotten any remnants of his nausea. Picking up his bags, he started towards the action, shouting over his shoulder as he went.

"Come on! We're at the Quidditch World Cup!"

-line break-

Ron trudged slowly at the back of the group, his initial enthusiasm completely lost. The group had been walking for the past 30 minutes, shoving through crowds of fans and families, trying to locate the spot where they would be staying for the next few days. At the front of the group, Mr. Weasley and Hermione had their heads bent over a small map, consulting with each other in low whispers. Harry stood in the middle of the group, thankful for the sheer number of Weasley's for hiding him from any unnecessary attention.

"Aha! We should be right around the corner…"

The jubilant voice of Mr. Weasley came, followed by modest cheers, as the group finally reached their tent.

Harry stared at the shabby looking affair, a small brown tent that looked like it could hardly hold its own weight up, let alone hold more than 10 people. Inexplicably, however, their group filed into the tent one by one, slipping through the narrow entrance with no trouble at all. Before entering, Luna's father shook Mr. Weasley's hand firmly.

"Thank you very much Arthur, I believe this will provide a good base for me and my dear daughter to go looking for the Blibbering Humdinger… I think I caught a glimpse of what might have been one as we were passing that pink tent a few … well a few tents back over there. Hmmm yes… worth consideration."

As the blonde haired man delved into thought, staring blankly at Mr. Weasley, Luna tapped him on the shoulder.

"Perhaps we should offer the Weasley's a subscription to the Quibbler, father. As a thank you!"

He looked down at her, nodding aimlessly.

"Oh yes, good idea, good idea, hmm."

Luna smiled at Mr. Weasley, pushing her father into the tent, and following him in.

"Well Harry, I've got to make sure that lot aren't killing each other in there, so..."

Saying that, Mr. Weasley also ducked his head, heading into the tent, leaving Harry and Hermione staring bemusedly at each other, alone outside the tent.

"Surely… magic, right?"

Hermione said weakly.

The two pulled back the flaps on the entrance of the tent.

As they stepped in, looking around in awe, Harry echoed Hermione's earlier statement softly.

"Magic…"

The inside of the tent was an expanse rivalling the size of Privet Drive, with a large open living space fully equipped with a number of comfy looking armchairs, tables, and a kitchen area. More curtains hid entrances to other rooms, one slightly open, revealing a bedroom with 4 full sized beds. The whole tent was lit with lanterns, giving off a warm, orange light, adding to the homely environment.

A dreamy voice came from behind the two, as Luna walked out of the girls bedroom.

"It really is quite nice isn't it. Come now Hermione, you have to get your stuff unpacked. We'll be sleeping together, you, Ginny and me."

The slight girl walked back to the divider, holding the flap open for Hermione to enter. As Hermione walked past her, into the bedroom with a quick smile of thanks, Luna mumbled in an awfully audible tone, sighing to herself.

"It'll almost be like having friends."

Hermione's back stiffened. Without a word, she reached back, grabbing the younger girl by the shoulder. Pulling Luna close to herself, the pair disappeared into the room, the fabric parting flapping shut behind them.

Harry turned back to the main room, letting his luggage flop onto a seat as he walked around. As he did so, a large growl sounded out from the other room. Harry's eyebrows shot up, smirking with the two eldest Weasley brothers, sitting in the chairs across from him. Bill chuckled, then jabbed his elbow into his brother's side.

"Three sickles says that's Ron's stomach."

Charlie, the more thickset brother, shook his head wryly, smacking his hand into Bill's.

"I know I'm going to lose that bet… but fine...it could have been a baby dragon or something, right?"

Ron came out of the adjourning bedroom, sheepishly, as the twins, laughing uproariously followed.

Smiling, Mr. Weasley spoke.

"A little hungry are we, boys?"

Ron gave a muffled sigh of agreement.

"Well then, it's time to prepare some lunch. Molly isn't here to save us, so you all are going to have to do some work, who's up for it?"

The air was immediately broken by the crowd of redheads offering up their excuses.

Percy sniffed, holding up a pile of papers and a quill.

"I've got official Ministry business to be doing. I'm terribly sorry so I wo-"

"Shut up Weatherby!"

The twins chorused, patting Percy on both shoulders.

"Don't worry Mr. Has a Ministry job you're alright. Speaking of that however…"

Fred trailed off, meeting George's eyes.

"Ah yes… we have some extremely important … business transactions to make, so I'm afraid we're going to have to pop out, Dad."

The pair jauntily strode out the front entrance of the tent, leaving Harry, Ron, Bill and Charlie alone with Mr. Weasley.

"Dragon on the loose, I definitely heard something about a dragon on the loose."

"Urgent call from Gringotts, sorry Dad. Galleons… needing… cleaning?"

With that set of rather feeble excuses, the two men rapidly fled the kitchen. Shaking his head, Mr. Weasley shrugged at the two boys left frozen in their seats.

"Ah well, it's just as well. The lads were never the best at cooking, but Ron's a fair hand in the kitchen. Harry, I wouldn't want to push you too much, but would you be alright to give Ron and I a hand?"

As Ron groaned, sinking deeper into his seat, Harry nodded eagerly.

"Oh sure, Mr. Weasley. I actually cook quite a bit back at home, so I'd be happy to help!"

A dark look flashed across the usually affable man's face, but it soon passed, and he nodded cheerfully. Alright, then, let's get to it!

-line break-

The sizzling of the stove ebbed, as the scent of bacon and toasted bread filled the tent. As if attracted by the smell, the entrance widened, and the missing Weasley boys trooped back in. A few moments later, Luna's father walked in, looking slightly worse for the wear but cheerful nonetheless.

"Alright, alright. Sit down boys!"

Mr. Weasley, looking slightly harried, with a few singe marks looked over to Harry, who was dishing out the last of the food onto plates on the table.

"Harry, could you go tell the girls that the food is ready?"

Nodding, Harry made his way over to the girl's bedroom, calling into it.

"Hermione? Ginny? Luna? Lunch is on the table, come and get it!"

"Coming!"

The response was quick from the inside, and a few scuffling sounds came from the room, before Hermione stuck her head out. Harry chose to ignore the slight reddish tinge to her eyes, as well as her rumpled shirt, choosing instead to announce the menu.

"We've got some nice BLT's ready, so come on and get them."

Hermione smiled and walked out of the room, followed by Ginny, and then Luna. As the four made their way over to the table, Harry couldn't help but notice a spring to Luna's step, and a near glow that surrounded the younger girl, one that had definitely not been present when he had first seen her.

Harry shrugged to himself, deciding that a happy Luna was better than a sad Luna, and took his seat at the ramshackle but somehow simultaneously steady table set in the center of the tent. As the group dug in, conversation about Quidditch tactics abounded, as well as talk of meeting friends and making new ones.

-line break-

A man in a long black cloak, lined with silver stood before a table. The lone piece of furniture in the large room, his gloved hand swept gently over the white mask lying on the tabletop. His fist clenched, the leather of his glove creaking under the pressure. Raising the mask to his head, the figure turned, cold grey eyes gleaming from behind the simple eye slit, all that could be seen of his face.

"A reminder…"

AN: Sorry guys my updates have begun to be a little sporadic, as well as chapter length. I'm going to try to be more regular about this, but I might not be able to. Content-wise, I always loved Luna as a character, but always thought she would have clicked with Hermione a lot faster. In canon I guess because of the Quibbler and Hermione's insistence that all the creatures Luna believed in were nonsense, they started off a little cold, but I feel that if, like in this story, Hermione got to know even a bit about Luna's life, she would be able to empathize and get close to her. They end up good friends even in canon, so I don't think it's awfully unrealistic, but tell me what you guys think! Sorry for the long AN.