The Quidditch World Cup: the sporting event that brings the whole Wizarding World together. Thousands of people came ; my family was no exception. On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, we came with the Weasleys since they were our hosts during our time in England; we lived in America. I lay on the floor of Ginny Weasley's room with Hermione Granger, who I'd come to befriend in the recent years. The sun had set hours ago, and Harry was coming tomorrow. I could hear my parents downstairs talking to the Weasleys about Muggle stuff since we lived among them in America and adopted their ways. My parents thought it was the least we could do to blend in.
My father was a representative of the Ministry of Magic for America. He ran the outreach branch of the Ministry in New York City. My mother had the same job. When I was eight, my parents told me the new= and we packed up and traveled to America, a country I was not familiar with whatsoever.
The faint clank of pans suggested that Molly Weasley was washing the dishes, and I fell asleep to the faint creaking of The Burrow.
The next day was hectic as Ron, Fred, and George were bristling with excitement over the arrival of Harry in just a few hours. Half-asleep, I trudged downstairs and sat down at the table. Charlie was down, reading the Daily Prophet, Percy was probably getting work down on the cauldron issue, Bill was asleep in the rocking chair in the corner, Fred and George were in the sitting room, huddling over something, and Ron was bouncing up and down in his chair, waiting for breakfast. I stared at Ron blankly until he stopped. I heard Ginny and Hermione's voices crescendo as they made their way down the stairs. With a flourish, Molly floated the breakfast items to the table and called for Percy. I guessed Arthur was at the Ministry getting some work done in preparation for the Cup.
We tore through breakfast. I didn't even notice that my parents were gone.
"Where're Mum and Dad?" I asked.
"They went to Diagon Alley to get your school stuff," Arthur replied through his newspaper and a bite of eggs.
"Li'il early birds they are," I said groggily.
The rest of the day, Hermione and I helped Molly Weasley clean and pack. Chatter filled the Burrow as the day waned on. Too soon Arthur came back from work and announced, "Boys! It's time to pick Harry up!" Feet thundered down the stairs. Fred and George emerged. There was no Ron.
"Boys, where's Ronald?" asked Arthur.
"Taking a nap," replied Fred and George in unison.
"Then wake him up!" shouted Mr. Weasley.
We heard an explosion, some shouting, and in no time Fred and George came downstairs, Ron in tow. Mrs. Weasley looked bewildered at them: they were covered in ashes and smelled like fireworks. Molly scolded them and cleaned them up with a wave of her wand. By then, they were already late. They quickly hurried to the fireplace and transported via the Floo Network. Harry would be here soon.