AN: I lost my copy of GoF for about a week and nearly went crazy. Thanks a billion to Nixie the Bloody Pixie, Guest, Ari989, Iwa Shinju, Philodice, Majerus, Fibinaci, Bloody-Rozez, ILoveGeorgeEads, TroyWeb, magitech, Poetheather1, MuggleCreator, star-eye, Lady Sabine of Macayhill, Quathis, ultima-owner, and Tellur.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise.
Harry stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes blearily. His mind continued to replay his dream from the previous night, which he was beginning to suspect was not, in fact, a dream. Remus had said that Pettigrew escaped the Ministry, so that explained his presence. It didn't surprise Harry in the least that Wormtail had caught up with Voldemort, and that the two were now plotting to kill Harry. But oddly enough, he couldn't recall precisely how they were planning on doing so. Even now, his scar pounded furiously as he struggled to remember the details…
"Morning, Harry."
Harry jumped a foot in the air before whirling around. There, in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, was Sirius. "Er…morning." He paused, debating on whether or not he should go back to sleep. He only rose this early in the morning to prepare breakfast for Sirius. But Sirius was downstairs, with a plate and several potions in front of him, clearly able to prepare his own breakfast. At last he decided that, as he was already dressed, it would be a waste to go back to sleep. Instead, he slipped into a seat across from his godfather.
"Have you got any plans for the day, then?"
"Er…" Harry said again. "No, not really. Did you want to do something?" He didn't dare to think the answer would be affirmative.
"Yeah, actually." Harry's head shot up. "I've got some pictures of your dad…and a few of your mum, too. I thought we could go through them together." It was now that Sirius exhibited a slight twinge of discomfort, shifting on the barstool and studying his hands. "Unless you didn't want to…"
"No!" Harry blurted out. "No, that'd be brilliant. Erm, just let me grab something to eat." He could hardly contain his excitement. He and Sirius were going to look at pictures of his parents! He wasn't sure a better day existed.
While Harry raced about the kitchen to scrounge together some food, a light tapping on the wood sounded. Sirius stood and crossed the room to hand the owl payment, before sitting back down and unfurling the Daily Prophet. He read at a leisurely pace, occasionally stopping to stare into space, lost in memories. He seemed to read from the back to the front, finally reaching the main headline as Harry guzzled down the last bit of pumpkin juice.
"The World Cup's tomorrow," Sirius remarked, blinking. "Huh. Ireland vs Bulgaria. Seems like you'd want to go to that, Harry."
Harry stopped short. "Uh…the Weasleys invited me, but I said no," He mumbled. He didn't mention that he'd declined in order to spend more time with Sirius. Even if he only saw the man when bringing up meals, he didn't want to miss a minute.
"Huh," Sirius repeated, gazing at him closely. Harry began to feel uncomfortable and tugged at his collar, face heating up. "Y'know…the Minister gave me four tickets. Supposed to be an apology for Azkaban. You sure you don't want to go?"
Harry grinned. "That'd be great! Well, as long as you're going," He added quickly. It would be just like Sirius to try and make Harry happy without leaving the comfort of his home.
"'Course I'm going! Can't miss my godson's first World Cup, can I?" Sirius winked, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Did you know James and I went to two World Cup games?"
"Really?"
"Sure. Let's see, it was '74, right before fourth year, and '78. We weren't supposed to go to the second one—the war was getting pretty serious—but we snuck out. Lily nearly hexed us for it later, but it was Quidditch! We couldn't just miss it!"
Harry shook his head, agreeing emphatically. "Who else are we taking, then?" He wondered.
Sirius shrugged. "Remus and blondie."
"Blondie?" Harry echoed. Did Sirius have a girlfriend? Was that what made him so happy?
"Professor Burbage," He amended, coughing. "That reminds me, how's your summer homework going? I know I haven't been helping much these past few weeks…" He trailed off. When they had still lived in the flat in London, Sirius had talked to Harry nearly nonstop. But as soon as they moved into Grimmauld Place, Sirius had locked himself away. Secretly, Harry had wondered if he'd done something wrong—if perhaps Sirius had gotten tired of being a parent and changed his mind about looking after Harry.
"Homework's alright. I finally finished the Potions essay. I've just got History and a little bit of Transfiguration left. I'll get it sorted before school, don't worry." Harry quickly cleared his dishes and sat back down, vibrating with excitement. He and Sirius were going to spend the whole day together! And then they'd go to the World Cup, and with any luck, Sirius would stay like this for the rest of summer holidays.
"Oh yeah? James used to be brilliant at Transfiguration, top of the class. I was right behind him, of course—couldn't let him get too sure of himself—but he had a knack for it." Sirius smiled sadly, tracing swirly patterns into the counter. "I hear Andromeda's your Transfiguration teacher now."
"Yeah, do you know her?" Harry wondered, hanging off of his every word.
"Know her?" Sirius barked. "She's my cousin! My mother is her father's sister. Only good one in the family, I always said. Dromeda got blasted off the family tree when she married Ted Tonks—since he was a muggleborn and all—real nice chap. She and Ted had a daughter, Nymphadora. Much as I love her, Dromeda wasn't very good with names. I believe the girl should be about twenty one by now—she was a metamorphmagus, could change her appearance at will."
Harry blinked. "Change her…you mean all of it?" He imagined the benefits of such a thing. No more being recognized as Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, but as a regular teenage boy.
"She wasn't very good at it as a child…course, I last saw her when she was seven, so who knows what she's like now?" Sirius shrugged.
Harry grew fascinated. If Sirius knew this much about a member of his family after being in prison for twelve years…Harry could only be so lucky as to have a family the size of Sirius', although preferably without the madness and penchant for torture.
"Hello!" Burbage called out, shutting the door firmly behind her. By now, everyone was so used to Mrs. Black's portrait that no one even flinched as the curtains flew open and the old woman began screeching. Burbage closed the curtains quite calmly and moved into the kitchen, carrying brown sacks of food with her. She hesitated for only a moment upon catching sight of Sirius.
He raised his coffee mug at her, and she beamed in response. "Good morning! I've just been to the store—I did just as you said Harry, only getting enough food to fit in the shopping cart—none of the muggles looked at me oddly at all! I think, if I just take more frequent trips, I won't need to use Undetectable Extension Charms. I really should've thought of that earlier…anyway, how are you both this morning?"
"Great," Harry replied truthfully. "Sirius was telling me about how he's related to Professor Tonks."
She nodded, waving her wand to open all of the cupboards. "Yes, I think Remus told me about that. And, um, how are you, Sirius?" She towards him tentatively, though she continued to swish her wand and send the groceries to their proper places.
"Alright." Sirius waited until she looked at him fully. "Listen blondie, before I forget, how would you like to attend the Quidditch World Cup with two very famous young wizards?"
"You're still considered young?" Harry quipped innocently, snickering when Sirius shot him a glare.
Burbage appeared rather flustered. "Oh—well, I suppose—it's rather short notice, of course, but…is Remus invited as well?" She was watching Harry intently, as though asking him why Sirius had made such a complete turnabout. He shrugged at her.
"Couldn't go to one without Remus, could we?" Sirius questioned lightly, leaning forward and putting his elbows up on the countertop. "Reckon we might have to go out and buy a tent…say, Harry, I don't suppose you've ever side-along apparated, have you?"
"Er…what?" Harry felt very foolish.
"Never mind, I'll explain later. There's a first time for everything, anyway. We'll apparate early enough that you can talk to your friends, then the match, and then we'll spend the night. Only tradition, after all." Sirius was off like a rocket, making plans at the speed of light. Burbage looked just as overwhelmed as Harry felt. Sirius seemed to know exactly what to do in this situation, and Harry could only hope that he would be as prepared someday.
"Sirius, before we get the tent, could we look at the pictures?" He asked hesitantly.
Sirius jolted. "Right, of course. How could I forget the pictures? You stay down here, we'll sort them in the living room. I was thinking we could pick a few for the hall, now that most of the family portraits are gone. Ghastly things they were, I obviously lucked out in the looks department…"
Harry and Burbage traded bewildered glances as Sirius dashed up the stairs. Something was clearly going on, but if it meant having his godfather back, Harry wasn't about to complain.
"Hello, Hedwig," Ron greeted the snowy owl, sounding surprised. "Is that a letter from Harry?"
Hedwig hooted and stuck out her leg, ruffling her feathers importantly. Pigwidgeon, the bloody nuisance, flew close to her and hooted loudly. The older owl jumped back and glared at him.
"Sorry about Pig," Ron told her. "He was a gift from Sirius, but I think the bloke picked out the most annoying one in the shop on purpose." Not that he was complaining, of course. With Percy moving out, it'd be good to have another owl in the house, especially since Errol was growing increasingly worse.
Ron unfolded the parchment and scanned Harry's untidy chicken scratch, grinning as he finished. "Look, Hedwig, I'll be right back. You can rest a bit, maybe teach Pig how a real owl's supposed to act," He suggested. He tore out of his room, nearly falling flat on his face after tripping on a pile of dirty clothes. He made a mental note to clean those up before Mum saw.
"Oi, everybody!" He whooped, flying down the steps. "Harry's coming to the World Cup!"
Ginny's head popped up from behind the couch, a bright smile on her face. "That's great! I'll just let Colin know that Harry needs Dennis' ticket, I'm sure he won't mind." She didn't look at all troubled about leaving out one of the Creevey brothers.
"Don't bother," He said cheerfully. "The Minister gave Sirius some tickets, so Harry's using one of them." Ron felt quite chipper. With Harry watching from the Top Box, it would be almost like he had gone with them after all, but Sirius would be there too. Sirius, when he wasn't moping, could be a lot of fun, even if he did have strange ideas when it came to pets.
Ginny pursed her lips before turning back to her magazine.
"Great!" Bill exclaimed, coming out of the kitchen. "I'll finally get to meet him. You, Ginny, and the twins have only been talking about him the whole summer. Percy even mentions him when he's around!" Bill shook his head, making his long red hair swish dramatically.
"Really, Bill, I've no idea what you're talking about." Charlie grinned, right behind Bill. "It's not like he's mentioned at every meal, or anything. And it's not like I've just been told by my own family that a thirteen year old boy is a better Seeker than me." Charlie clutched his hand to his heart, faking a tear or two.
"Actually, Harry's fourteen now," Ginny piped up helpfully. Her face burned bright pink as Bill raised an eyebrow at her.
"What's all this talk about Harry?" Fred asked, spooking Ron by showing up behind him.
"Yeah, is Ginny trying to recruit new members for her fan club?" George winked at his sister as she fumed.
"Fan club?" Charlie let out a chuckle at that.
"Harry's going to the World Cup with Sirius," Ron informed the twins, ignoring his other siblings' antics. "He said Burbage and Lupin are coming along too," He added, waving Harry's letter about.
"Really, Gin, a fan club? And you couldn't even get one for your own brother started?" Charlie frowned in mock disappointment. "I could've played for England, you know. Does nobody in this family appreciate the best Weasley son?"
"Best?" Bill snorted, purposely knocking Charlie's shoulder with his own. "Everyone knows that the best brother is always the eldest. I was Head Boy."
"So was Percy, though," Ginny pointed out.
Bill turned on her. "Whose side are you on?"
"Haven't you heard, dear brothers?" George began, chiming into the argument.
"Two is always better than one," Fred finished for him, as they high fived over Ron's head. The pair had to stretch up onto their tip-toes, for Ron had been taller than them for years now.
"Will you all please quiet down?" Percy called from his room upstairs. "Some of us have work to do!"
"Harry's coming to the World Cup, Perce," Ron shouted back. The 'Best Brother' debate, as he'd termed it, happened nearly every time most of the Weasleys were under the same roof. By this point he knew practically every angle each boy would pull, and he'd lost interest in it a few years prior. Ginny, however, still delighted in picking sides at random.
"Is he, really?" Percy now appeared mildly fascinated. His door shut with a click behind him as he shuffled down the stairs. "Is that what's brought everyone into such a clamor?"
"So sorry to interrupt your fascinating research, brother dear," Fred apologized loudly, clapping a hand onto Percy's shoulder. "I'm sure those cauldron bottoms really require your assistance."
"Yeah," George agreed. "Wouldn't want people to suddenly find themselves with issues making Potions, would we?" He winked again, this time at his twin.
"It's not funny, you two," Percy snapped, adjusting his glasses. "In fact, if I were you, I'd be more concerned about these things. After all, faulty cauldrons could put a serious damper on your joke shop business."
"What d'you mean?" George said, looking suspicious.
Percy seemed quite pleased with himself. "Well, if the products aren't up to standard because of the thickness of the cauldron bottom, you'd be in some serious trouble, wouldn't you? Not to mention that you could get severely hurt." He adjusted his glasses again.
"You're starting a joke shop?" Charlie let out a low whistle. "I should've known. Only Fred and George would think of something like that."
"They've already started making things for it," Ron informed him. "Haven't you seen them lying around?" Fred and George had stashed fake wands and Ton-Tongue Toffees all around the Burrow in hopes of an unsuspecting victim coming across one.
"You!" Bill suddenly burst out, glaring at them. "You're the reason my tongue grew ten feet long yesterday!"
Fred was disappointed. "You didn't manage to stop it until it was ten feet? There goes your position as best brother."
"Just think, Forge," George said happily. "If we managed to get Bill, imagine what else we could do!"
"I think we're all forgetting something here," Ginny spoke up, twisting around to smirk at them. "Who's going to tell Mum?"
Ron and his brothers all froze instantly, as if a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on all of their heads. Ron somehow knew deep down that it would fall to him. He was the youngest brother, after all, and they wouldn't dare send Ginny. She might be small, but she could be an absolute terror when she wanted.
"Well, obviously it can't be me," Bill announced. "She'd probably turn it into a reason for me to cut my hair. This is what gets all the girls, you know," He whispered conspiratorially.
Charlie held up his hands. "Don't look at me, I've never even met the kid. Besides, apparently I need to work on my Seeking skills. I must be slipping if a kid can beat me," He mumbled, hurrying out the back door.
"I need to get back to work." Percy tugged anxiously at his collar, bounding up the stairs. "Cauldron thickness—very serious stuff, you know." He disappeared up the steps, the twins hot on his heels.
"You lot can't possibly expect us to tell Mum, can you?" George shook his head fearfully.
"Yeah, she nearly killed us after we got Dad with the fake wand," Fred declared, flashing a triumphant smile at Ron.
The youngest Weasley brother groaned in despair. How was it that he was always chosen for these things again? "C'mon Gin, don't you wanna help out your favorite brother?"
Ginny put down her magazine—which, upon further examination, appeared to be a copy of the Quibbler—and frowned at him. "Who said you were my favorite brother? And anyway, I don't see why you're all worried about it. Shouldn't it make Mum happy?"
Ron snorted at her naiveté. "Right, it will. In fact, it'll make Mum so happy that she'll decide she needs to make twice as much food as usual. Then she'll make us clean ourselves up and use our manners—even though it's just Harry, and it's not like he hasn't seen it all before—and she'll blow up at the smallest things because everything needs to be just perfect. But I'm sure it'll make her happy!" He finished sarcastically, glaring at her.
"Hmm." Ginny twirled a lock of hair between her fingers. "Yeah, I can see where you're coming from. Well, good luck, Ron. It was nice knowing you." And with that, she picked up The Quibbler and continued reading, leaving Ron gaping.
Cedric Diggory let his head fall back and hit the ground as he lay sideways on his bed, with his feet hanging up in the air. His room was done in a black and yellow theme, with Hufflepuff memorabilia strewn about. A play snitch fluttered about a glass case on his desk, straining eagerly at its confines. Behind the desk was a wall full of pictures—Cedric on a toy broom, Cedric at his first game, Cedric catching the snitch at the match against Gryffindor this past year.
Clutched in his hand was a copy of the Daily Prophet, with the front page blaring up at him. Ireland, Cedric decided, was bound to win, even if Krum was an amazing Seeker. Privately, Cedric liked to think that he was just as good as Krum, and the only reason he didn't have that kind of fame was because he wanted to finish his studies without any disruptions.
Well, he thought lazily, any disruptions that don't involve girls. In a drawer of his desk, he kept a few mementos. Though they held no real value to him, he liked to know that they were always there for him to look back on. A hair ribbon from a Gryffindor, a necklace chain from a Hufflepuff, an eagle feather quill from the only Slytherin he'd ever dared to pursue. Cedric Diggory was, after all, a rather popular boy—and as everyone knows, popular boys attract a fair amount of admirers.
In truth, Cedric didn't care much for these girls. They followed him without a thought to his personality or talents. The only reason he was so popular in the first place was because of his looks. He knew this, of course, but that didn't mean it didn't affect him. Those girls didn't care if he could catch the snitch and win the House Cup. They didn't care if he was a natural when it came to Charms. They didn't care that he was absolute rubbish at Gobstones, or that he nearly always fell asleep during Astronomy. And if they didn't care about him, then why should he care about them?
Even his own friends didn't care about him! They followed him about blindly, agreeing with whatever he said—and sometimes he said some pretty stupid stuff, just to test them. But what could he do? This was the way things went, wasn't it? If he distanced himself, he wouldn't have anybody. Things were better if you had people around you, even if they didn't actually know you.
It would get better after Hogwarts, he decided. Good things had to happen eventually. Hadn't he seen it happen before? The smart, charismatic young man rises his way to a position of power in the Ministry, finding a beautiful, perfect girl along the way. It was almost a routine at this point. There was one of those nearly every year.
Knock, knock.
"Cedric? Could I talk to you for a moment?"
Cedric bit back a groan. "Yeah, I'll be out in a minute, Dad." His father had always been a bit overbearing, but lately, he'd kicked it up a notch. Cedric wasn't sure what was going on—if his father felt a sudden urge for father-son bonding time—but it got annoying rather quickly. He folded the newspaper up and swung his legs around, landing perfectly on his feet.
Dad sat on the couch in the living room, looking concerned. Cedric paused at the doorway, starting to get wary. In all of their strange and uncomfortable talks this summer, Dad had never started out looking worried. He shrugged it off and practically flopped on the couch opposite, sprawled out on all three cushions.
Dad cleared his throat and shifted. "Ced, I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Yeah? What's that?" Cedric tilted his head back, examining the ceiling closely. There was a long, thin crack right above him, and he found himself wondering if perhaps the roof would cave in on top of them and save him from what was sure to be one of the most awkward conversations of his life.
"I, uh…" Dad swallowed. "Listen, Cedric, I know you're a teenager, and you might feel like things are going nowhere, but er…"
Cedric felt his eyes grow wide. Had the man somehow gotten into his head? "Yeah?" He urged Dad further, eager to hear what was next.
"Well, I can't help but notice that you don't seem to be talking to too many people this summer." Dad's face turned red as he tugged at his beard. Cedric merely blinked at him. "And, I was wondering if something was wrong."
Cedric shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing's wrong. I just don't have anything to talk about."
Dad peered at him. "Right. Ced, don't you think maybe your friends have something to talk about?" He pulled at his collar.
"No," Cedric said flatly.
Dad looked shocked. "Cedric, don't you care about what's going on in their lives?"
"No," He said again. "They don't care about my life, I don't care about theirs."
Dad was growing angry now. Cedric was beginning to think that Dad didn't really understand what was going on after all. "Cedric, this is serious. I've put up with the notes from teachers saying you're disruptive in class—"
"What?" Cedric interjected, furrowing his brows.
"—I've put up with your letters telling me about a different girl every month, and I've put up with your careless attitude towards everything but Quidditch. I'll grant that some of the blame falls to me after…after your mother."
Cedric glanced away. Thoughts of his mother always led him to feeling angry and bitter. Life was supposed to be fair. Cedric had believed that ever since he was small—in fact, his mother had been the one to drill such ideas into his head—and it was no wonder that he'd been sorted into Hufflepuff. But having his mother taken away wasn't fair. Not if everybody else still had their families. All Cedric had was a hovering father.
"But," Dad began more strongly, "that doesn't mean you can continue this way. Stop with the constant restlessness. Either find a girl and stick with her, or stay single. Find some friends you actually care about. Pay attention to all of your studies, not just the ones you're good at."
Cedric slouched down, clenching his hands into fists. "Why don't you just make me quit Quidditch while you're at it?" He mumbled resentfully.
Dad cast a quick look at him. "I would, but…" He trailed off.
"But what?" Cedric snapped.
Dad frowned. "There will be no Quidditch this year." He held up a hand as Cedric protested. "I can't tell you why, so don't ask. Instead, there will be something much, much bigger. It will be a great opportunity for you, Ced, and I want you to take it."
Cedric looked away now, already bored. Knowing his father, he'd probably be competing for an internship at the Ministry or something equally unimportant. He'd do it, that was for sure, but he wouldn't be happy about it. "Yeah. We're still going to the Cup tomorrow though, right?"
Dad was surprised now. "Of course, my boy. Now, we'll be catching a portkey with the Weasleys. Arthur has a few boys near your age. I'd like you to at least try to make friends with them. I'm sure they'll know a few people around, too. Never hurts to meet new people."
Cedric grimaced. He could still remember his disastrous date with Angelina Johnson, and while the anger had faded long ago, the humiliation still remained. He was pretty sure if he ever tried to talk to her, he'd get punched again. He'd also probably get a little surprise from the Weasley twins, and more than a few nasty looks from Alicia Spinnet.
All in all, what was supposed to be one of the greatest days of his life was turning out to be an utter mess.