When they'd shown up at Stoatshead Hill at that ungodly hour, Cedric had been excited to see Hermione there. None of his friends had managed to get tickets, and it would be nice to have someone to talk to other than his father. He trudged over to her.
"I'm glad your father found the Portkey," she said, yawning. "We'd be more likely to trample it than find it at this time of day."
"I think that's how he found it," Cedric said truthfully.
Hermione laughed softly before crossing her arms self-consciously.
"You know, I never understood why they used garbage for Portkeys," he said suddenly.
"I know!" she perked up. "I guess the Ministry doesn't understand that there are Muggles who clean garbage from parks and the countryside as volunteer work."
"That boot would be the first thing they'd pick up. I always thought it would be better to use keys. No one is likely to pick it up mistakenly, and when you found it, you'd know it was right."
Cedric smiled as Hermione instantly lost any pretext of shyness and talked full speed ahead. That was the Hermione he knew.
She chatted with him warmly as they arrived by Portkey and went on to look for souvenirs. Knowledge was not only the key for getting Hermione to open up, it was also the key to spending a day with her and her friends. He couldn't imagine a better way to spend the day at the World Cup.
