Chapter 78: Portkeys and Diggorys
"Ron dear? Wake up, it's time to be heading off." I heard Mum's voice in my sleep. I muttered incoherently as Mum gently shook me fully awake. I looked over and seen Harry sitting up, fumbling with his glasses.
"'S time already?" said Fred groggily as Mum shook him and George up.
We dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk, then, yawning and stretching, the four of us headed downstairs into the kitchen.
Mum was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Dad was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as we entered and spread his arms so that we could see his hideous outfit that for some reason, seemed to be proud of. He was wearing a ghastly sweater and a very old pair of muggle jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.
"What do you think?" he asked anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito - do I look like a Muggle, Harry?"
"Yeah." said Harry, smiling hard, indicating he was trying not to laugh. "Very good."
"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" said George, failing to stifle a huge yawn.
"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" said Mum, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. "So they can have a bit of a lie-in."
"So they're still in bed?" said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward him. "Why can't we Apparate too?"
"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test," snapped Mum. "And where have those girls got to?"
She bustled out of the kitchen and we heard her climbing the stairs.
"You have to pass a test to Apparate?" Harry asked.
"Oh yes," said Dad as he tucked the tickets safely into the back pocket of his jeans. "The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done properly it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I'm talking about went and splinched themselves."
Everyone around the table except Harry winced.
"Er - splinched?" said Harry.
"They left half of themselves behind," said Dad, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. "So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they'd left behind."
"Were they okay?" he asked, startled.
"Oh yes," said Dad/ matter-of-factly. "But they got a heavy fine, and I don't think they'll be trying it again in a hurry. You don't mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who don't bother with it. Prefer brooms - slower, but safer."
"But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?"
"Charlie had to take the test twice," said Fred, grinning. "He failed the first time. Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"
"Yes, well, he passed the second time," said Mum, marching back into the kitchen.
"Percy only passed two weeks ago," said George. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can."
There were footsteps down the passageway and Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy.
Suddenly, last night's conversation flooded back into my head, and I couldn't look Hermione in the face.
"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table.
"We've got a bit of a walk," said Dad.
"Walk?" said Harry. "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 without 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!" said Mum sharply.
"What?" said George, in an innocent tone that deceived nobody.
"What is that in your pocket?"
"Nothing!"
"Don't you lie to me! Accio!"
Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mum's outstretched hand.
"We told you to destroy them!" said Mum furiously, holding up what were unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"
It was a hilarious scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mum managed to find them all.
"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at Mum as she threw the toffees away.
"Oh a fine way to spend six months!" she shrieked. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"
All in all, the atmosphere was not very friendly as we took their departure. Mum was still pissed as she kissed Dad on the cheek, though not nearly as much as the twins, who had each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without a word to her.
"Well, have a lovely time," said Mum, "and behave yourselves," she called after the twins' retreating backs, but they did not look back or answer.
"I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday."
It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to their right showed that daybreak was drawing closer.
"You've been pretty quiet." said Hermione, sneaking up on me."
"I'll tell you later." I said, instantly regretting my words. I never intended on telling anyone about Harry, my brothers, and my conversation, especially Hermione.
'Great.' I thought to myself. 'Now I will have to make up some shit.'
Saying what I shouldn't have must have sufficed for Hermione, because she nodded and fell back to talk to Ginny.
"So how does everyone get there without all the Muggles noticing?" I heard Harry ask Dad.
"It's been a massive organizational problem. The trouble is, about a hundred thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of course, we just haven't got a magical site big enough to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles can't penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or platform nine and three-quarters. So we had to find a nice deserted moor, and set up as many anti-Muggle precautions as possible. The whole Ministry's been working on it for months. First, of course, we have to stagger the arrivals. People with cheaper tickets have to arrive two weeks beforehand. A limited number use Muggle transport, but we can't have too many clogging up their buses and trains - remember, wizards are coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, of course, but we have to set up safe points for them to appear, well away from Muggles. I believe there's a handy wood they're using as the Apparition point. For those who don't want to Apparate, or can't, we use Portkeys. They're objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that's where we're headed."
Dad pointed ahead of us, where a large black mass rose beyond the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.
"What sort of objects are Portkeys?" said Harry curiously.
"Well, they can be anything," said Dad. "Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them...stuff they'll just think is litter."
We walked down the dark lane toward the village, the silence broken only by our footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as we made our way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. My hands and feet felt like icicles. Dad kept checking his watch.
We didn't have breath to spare for talking as we began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tufts of grass. My legs felt like they were going to give out and any minute. I really needed to work out more.
At last for what seemed like ages, my feet found level ground.
"Whew," panted Dad, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time - we've got ten minutes."
Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side and breathing hard.
"Alright you?" I asked.
She nodded, not being able to speak through her panting.
"Now we just need the Portkey," said Dad, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big...Come on."
We spread out, searching. We had only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rent the still air.
"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it."
Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.
"Amos!" said Dad, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of us followed.
Dad was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.
"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?"
Cedric Diggory was what witches would consider extremely handsome boy. A seventh year. 17. He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts.
"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at us all. I heard Hermione and Ginny giggling behind me.
Great.
Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team, Gryffindor, in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.
"Long walk, Arthur?" Cedric's father asked.
"Not too bad," said Dad. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"
"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still...not complaining...Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons - and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy..."
Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at all of us. "All these yours, Arthur?"
"Oh no, only the redheads," said Dad, pointing out the twins, me, and Ginny. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron's - and Harry, another friend -"
"Merlin's beard," said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. "Harry? Harry Potter?"
"Er - yeah," said Harry, uncomfortably as Amos's eyes zeroed in on his forehead.
"Ced's talked about you, of course," said Amos. "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!"
Harry looked taken aback and remained silent. Fred and George were both scowling again. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.
"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," he muttered. I told you...it was an accident..."
"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" roared Amos genially, slapping his son on his back. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman...but the best man won, I'm sure Harry would say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"
"What's he playing at?" whispered Harry to Hermione and I.
"He seems the type that likes to live vicariously through his son." said Hermione.
"Must be nearly time," said Dad quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"
"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"
"Not that I know of. Yes, it's a minute off...We'd better get ready..."
He looked around at Harry and Hermione.
"You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do -"
With difficulty, owing to our bulky backpacks, the nine of us crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory.
We all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. Nobody spoke. Then my father starts counting down.
"Three..two...one..."
It happened immediately: I felt as though a hook just behind my navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. My feet left the ground; I could feel Harry and Fred on either side of me, their shoulders banging into mine; we were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; my forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling me magnetically onward and then -
My feet slammed into the ground, but I slipped and fell into Harry
I looked up. Dad, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric were still standing, though looking very much like they did it everyday of their lives; everybody else was on the ground.
"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.