A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to lil' ol' me.
Once again, the chapter has centered itself rather annoyingly, and I don't know how to fix it. Bear with me here.
~0~
Per Mrs. Weasley's request, Genevieve had gone out into the garden with a small stack of plates and the intention of setting the table. However, she was soon caught up in a riveting duel between two tables, one controlled by Charlie and the other by Bill, each attempting to knock the other's out of the air. Genevieve cheered wildly, along with the twins, while Ginny laughed, and Hermione was undecided on whether she should enjoy the show or reprove the lot of them.
Bill's table collided with Charlie's, snapping one of its legs clean off, and Percy, unable to take the noise any longer, leaned out his bedroom window.
"Will you keep it down?!" he thundered.
"Sorry, Perce," replied Bill, unabashed. "How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?"
"Very badly," Percy said irritably, closing the window with a bang.
The two oldest Weasley brothers chuckled, lowered the tables back to the ground, fixed the table leg, and conjured tablecloths to decorate them with.
At dinner, Genevieve found herself caught up in a discussion about the upcoming Cup with Fred, George, and Charlie.
"It's got to be Ireland. They flattened Peru in the semifinals," Charlie stated.
"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," argued Fred.
"It is possible to win the game even if the other team catches the Snitch," Genevieve pointed out. "Besides, Krum's talented, but he can't make up for the entire team. Ireland's just too good."
"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven," Charlie agreed. "I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was."
"What happened?" asked Harry with interest.
"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten. Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg."
They continued in this vein till late in the night, when finally Mrs. Weasley said:
"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 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!" Harry commented.
"Well, I certainly don't," Percy said pompously. "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 teased.
Percy replied hotly, "That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway! It was nothing personal!"
"It was," Fred whispered to Harry while Genevieve let out a sort of strangled sound from trying not to laugh. "We sent it."
•~0~•
Genevieve heard Mrs. Weasley before she saw her. Damn, she thought, Already? The girls groggily dressed and, with another reminder from Mrs. Weasley, went downstairs.
"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny asked. Genevieve stifled a yawn.
"We've got a bit of a walk," Mr. Weasley replied.
"Walk?" Harry sounded startled. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"
"No, no, that's miles away. We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate that 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!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed suddenly, making Genevieve jump.
"What?" The boy asked with false innocence.
"What is that in your pocket?" She asked in a very, very dangerous voice.
"Nothing!"
"Don't you lie to me! Accio!"
More Ton-Tongue Toffees soared out of his pocket, much to Mrs. Weasley's anger.
"We told you to destroy them! We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"
She used the Summoning Charm to collectthe rest of them, and they came flying out of some truly creative places, such as the lining of George's jacket, the turn-ups of Fred's jeans, and, to general astonishment, Genevieve's book bag.
"I told you to leave me out of this!" she scolded.
Mrs. Weasley trashed the toffees, to which Fred exclaimed furiously, "We spent six months developing those!"
This was a very wrong thing to say. Mrs. Weasley's face reddened in rage as she screeched, "Oh a fine way to spend six months! No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"
The group left, the twins refusing to speak to their mother, with her saying, "Well, have a lovely time and behave yourselves. I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday."
They set off to Stoatshead Hill, where a Portkey was waiting for them, Mr. Weasley explaining to Harry what a Portkey was. Genevieve trudged along, half-asleep and certainly not talkative.
They reached the top with ten minutes to spare, Genevieve winded from the walk.
"Now we just need the Portkey," Mr. Weasley told the group. "It won't be big . . . Come on . . ."
Everybody branched out, looking for a small, seemingly useless object. Then a shout rang through the air.
"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"
"Amos!" Mr. Weasley greeted. He introduced the man and his son. "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?"
Of course Genevieve knew Cedric Diggory. He was a seventh year, Seeker and Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and he'd won against Gryffindor in the match last year when Harry had fainted from the dementors, something the twins had never quite forgiven him for. To his credit, when he'd discovered what had transpired, he had called for a rematch, thinking the way he'd won was unfair.
"Hi," Cedric said, to which they all (excluding Fred and George) replied the same. Mr. Diggory and Mr. Weasley engaged in small talk for a bit before Mr. Diggory asked, "All these yours, Arthur?"
"Oh no, only the redheads," Mr. Weasley said good-naturedly. "This is Genevieve, friend of the twins and Charlie, Hermione, friend of Ron's - and Harry, another friend -"
Mr. Diggory interrupted. "Merlin's beard. Harry? Harry Potter?"
"Er - yeah," Harry said awkwardly.
"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!"
It was at that point Genevieve knew she didn't like the man. She clenched her jaw, while the twins glowered at him.
"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," Cedric said, trying to defend Harry. "I told you . . . it was an accident . . ."
"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" Diggory boasted for him. "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 the broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"
Genevieve could control her tongue no more. "Mr. Diggory, I must ask, are you fully aware of what happened during that match? During the game, the dementors surrounded the Quidditch pitch, unable to resist the emotion and enthusiasm in the air. When dementors are near you, you relive your worst memories, every bad thing that's ever happened to you and nothing good. Personally, I see my mother moments before her death. I think we can all agree that Harry has experienced more trauma than the rest of us combined, that is what he's famous for, after all. So maybe, just maybe, you could muster up some sympathy for the boy who saved the Wizarding World?"
"Must be nearly time," Mr. Weasley interjected, trying to keep the peace, while Diggory stood frozen. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"
"N-no," Diggory stammered. "The Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets. Er - there aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"
"Not that I know of. Yes, it's in just a few seconds . . . Everybody touch the Portkey, just a finger will do -"
Everyone clambered to get a finger on the manky old boot, somehow managing it before being whisked away.
She made painful contact with the ground.
"Ouch!" Genevieve said. Her ankle throbbed. She looked down at it; it was already red from having landed wrong.
An unfamiliar voice said, "Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill."
Fred, George, Ginny, and Mr. Weasley swarmed her. "Are you okay?" They asked, clearly concerned. Genevieve had a habit of injuring herself doing simple things, thanks to clumsiness.
"Er - yeah, I think so." Tears stung her eyes, but she pushed them back. "It's probably just sprained."
She tried to get up, but yelped and collapsed to the ground again, a new wave of pain overwhelming her. Hermione knelt down beside Genevieve, examining her ankle, which was now swelling.
"Ouch!" Genevieve gasped as Hermione felt it. "A little gentler, please?"
"I reckon you've broken it." Hermione said with worry edging her voice.
"Great."
Mr. Weasley frowned. "I'd rather not try to mend it, Molly's much more adept at it than I am. Let me go find someone - "
"No." Genevieve cut in. "Don't worry about me. I've brought crutches - " she motioned to her bag, which she had put an Extension Charm on her third year to help carry her numerous books around. "In here. I keep them for occasions like this. I can survive a day or two with them. I've used them before, when I was eight and broke my leg during the summer. My dad can't heal anything to save his life either," she joked.
"Okay," Mr. Weasley said cautiously. "But I want all of you," he looked at the rest of the kids. "to keep an eye on her."
"We will," the twins promised.
"Merlin, no," said Genevieve. "I'll take my chances with Ginny, thank you very much."
Ginny smiled, helping her to her feet while pulling out the crutches. The man who'd announced their arrival told them where to check in, and off they went, Genevieve moving quite expertly.
After receiving their location from a dangerously observant Mr. Roberts (who'd promptly had his memory modified by another wizard), Genevieve watched with amusement as Hermione, Harry, and a rather unhelpful, overeager Mr. Weasley struggled to put up the tents, as magic wasn't allowed in big groups like these, near Muggles.
Once inside the magically Extended tents, they'd set their belongings down.
"I think I can safely claim the bottom bunk," Genevieve said jokingly.
Mr. Weasley assigned Ron, Harry, and Hermione to get water while the rest of them ("Not you, Genevieve!") collected firewoood. Genevieve used the time to read, stopping only when the twins returned, and they resumed conversing about Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which they were still determined about.
Percy interrupted their planning.
"Just Apparated, Dad," he said importantly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"
"Could he be any louder?" Genevieve muttered to Charlie, who grinned. He glanced at her crutches, which leaned against her chair.
"What'd you do?" He asked in a teasing yet mildly worried manner.
"Portkey. Landed wrong," she answered lightly. "Getting injured is my specialty, after all."
"Why didn't you have someone heal it?"
She shrugged. "Didn't want to. I'm fine; this'll be great research for my Muggle Studies class. I can see the report now: 'How Muggles Survive With Broken Bones'. Professor Burbage will be jumping up and down in glee."
He laughed. "Aren't you dropping that class?"
"Oh yeah. Maybe she'll take it in exchange for House points. Merlin knows someone needs to make up for what those two," she pointed to Fred and George, "lose us."
"That's fair," George reasoned.
They were halfway through lunch when Bagman walked up.
"Ahoy there!" He greeted, talking a bit with Mr. Weasley.
Percy almost tripped over himself rushing to shake the man's hand.
"Careful!" Genevieve warned loudly. "Don't want to break your ankle!" He glared at her.
"Ah - yes," Mr. Weasley said to Bagman. "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Charlie's friend, Genevieve, Ron - my daughter, Ginny - and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.
"Everyone, this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets - "
Bagman waved him off. "Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur? 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 week-long match."
Mr. Weasley bet a Galleon on an Ireland victory, but then Fred said:
"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."
Percy almost seemed personally offended by his last offer, but even more so when Bagman liked the wand, complimenting its quality.
Genevieve jabbed Fred, muttering to him, "Do you really want to risk all your savings on a silly bet with a bloke like Bagman?"
Mr. Weasley warned them as well, but Bagman was already writing down names. Bagman and Mr. Weasley continued to talk, Barty Crouch, Percy's boss (whom he idolized), even popping in for a second, though, much to Genevieve's delight, he called Percy "Weatherby." Finally, both Crouch and Bagman Disapparated.
However, before they did, Bagman mentioned something happening at Hogwarts, though Crouch prevented him from saying anything else about it. The subject piqued Fred's interest, though.
"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad? What were they talking about?"
Mr. Weasley was cheerfully secretive. "You'll find out soon enough."
Percy, on the other hand, sniffed, "It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it. Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."
"Oh shut up, Weatherby," Fred retorted.
Anticipation rose by the second. A salesman Apparated right in front of where Genevieve was perusing some flags, and she stumbled back into George, who kept her from falling over, though her crutches weren't so lucky.
"Thanks," Genevieve said sarcastically as the salesman looked sheepishly at her. Fred handed her back the crutches, and the salesman tried to make his pitch.
"Er - sorry about that, miss. I'll give you a complimentary rosette for the trouble," he offered, brandishing a green rosette.
She sighed. "Alright. And I'll take two more as well," she added, ignoring the protests of the twins, who hadn't any money left after betting. She paid, handed the gifts to the slightly embarrassed twins, and they continued on their way. "Mind you gits won't be getting anything from me for Christmas," she said to make them feel better.
Back at the tents, they waited, excitement mounting. Finally, a gong boomed and lanterns the color of both teams ignited, showing a path to the field.
"It's time!" Mr. Weasley declared. "Come on, let's go!"