Previous Chapters:
Chapter 1: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003585181
Chapter 2: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003585386
Chapter 3: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/f/p/4400000000003589099
Tags: @MeowTasticCat @Bellatrisblack @Diantha Angelina Black @CatsAndRoblox
Chapter Four: The Portkey
(I made some errors, I said in a previous chapter that both the day Harry gets picked up and the day they will leave for the Cup is Sunday, which obviously both can not be true. So the day Harry gets picked up is Sunday and the day they leave is Monday, and although in the real world the full moon in August 1994 was the Sunday, I will have it be the Monday, and for Canini and Remus I was tweaked canon slightly for the game to happen late afternoon instead of night.)
Harry felt as though he had barely lain his head down to sleep when he was being shaken awake by Sirius.
‘Wake up everyone,’ he said calmly but firm enough for everyone to hear, ‘it is time to go.’
Harry felt around for his glasses, put them on, and sat up. It was still dark outside. Canini moaned as Sirius attempted to stir her. As he sat up he saw two large, disheveled shapes emerging from tangles of blankets.
‘What time is it?” Theodore asked groggily.
‘Early,’ Sirius responded, ‘Now you all get dressed or we will be late.’
Canini left to go to her room and the rest of them dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk, then, yawning and stretching, the three of them headed downstairs into the kitchen, Canini followed soon after.
Remus was stirring up some porridge for them all to eat, while Sirius was doing final checks to make sure they had everything sitting at the table, including making sure all the tickets were accounted for. He looked up as they entered and gave them a warm smile, he was wearing his favourite muggle outfit, black jeans and a leather jacket. Although instead of a shirt with a muggle band on it, the shirt he wore was green with a shamrock on it that said “Kiss Me, I’m Irish”. Terence looked as though he was suppressing a laugh and Canini just looked at him in embarrassment, Sirius seemed to take no more however.
‘Sleep well everyone?’
Still sounding half asleep, Harry responded, ‘Slept fine, just not for nearly enough...’
‘Well you can catch up after the Cup. Trust me, you won't be tired during it.'
'And why are we up before dawn again?' Theodore said, sitting down at the table, he wasn't much of a morning person.
'We have to hike to the-' said Sirius.
'Hike?' said Harry. 'What, are we walking to the World Cup?'
'What? No, that is across the Irish Sea,” said Sirius, almost laughing. 'We are just flooing to the Burrow then walking a kilometer or two. We just have to be careful how we travel because with so many witchs and wizards it is hard for Muggles not to notice. Now finish up.'
They all finished their breakfast, grabbed their bags and supplies, and one by one all six of them flooed to the Weasley's residence where they were just about to venture out themselves.
'Aw, good, you are all here,' Mrs Weasley said as Remus emerged in the fire place. She then turned to everyone as a whole. 'Well, have a lovely time, and behave yourselves. I’ll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday.'
As they set off across the dark yard, Harry was pleasantly surprised to see that besides Mr Weasley, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny, that they were joined with Hermione Granger. 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. The three girls instantly huddled together to talk about there summer and talk about that nights game, while Harry walked closer to Ron to ask a question.
'Why are Bill, Charlie, and Percy going later instead of with us now?'
'We had just finished discussing that when Sirius arrived,' Ron started, some frustration left over in his voice. 'They can all Apparate so they get to sleep in while we are marching through the drew before half past six.'
Harry sped up so that he was now walking next to Sirius, he had been thinking about thousands of wizards speeding toward the Quidditch World Cup.
'So how does everyone get there without all the Muggles noticing? he asked.
'I think Mr Weasley is more qualified to answer that question. How is the Ministry doing it again, Arthur?'
'It’s been a massive organizational problem,' sighed Mr Weasley. '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. I don't know if they have taught you about Portkey's yet in school, 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.'
Mr Weasley pointed ahead of them, 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 Mr Weasley. 'Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don’t go picking them up and playing with them...stuff they’ll just think is litter...'
'An old truck tire Portkey saved my life once during the war,' Sirius said proudly.
They trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by their footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. Harry’s hands and feet were freezing. Mr Weasley kept checking his watch.
They didn’t have breath to spare for talking as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. Each breath Harry took was sharp in his chest and his legs were starting to seize up when, at last, his feet found level ground.
'Whew,' panted Mr Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. 'Well, we’ve made good time—we’ve got ten minutes...'
'I am clearly not as in shape as I used to be, that climb took it out of me,' said Sirius.
Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side.
'Now we just need the Portkey,' said Mr Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. 'It won’t be big...Come on...'
They spread out, searching. They had only been at it for a minute or two, however, when a shout went through 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 Mr Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed.
Mr Weasley 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.
'Sirius, Remus, this is Amos Diggory,' said Mr Weasley. 'He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.'
Just the mention of that department made Remus look uncomfortable, Sirius squeezed his hand for support, Mr Weasley continued.
'And I think you know his son, Cedric?'
Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen. He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts, as well as a Prefect.
'Hi,' said Cedric, looking around at them all.
Harry and Canini were the first to say hi back, quickly followed by everyone else except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They clearly held some kind of grudge against him.
'Long walk, Arthur?' Cedric’s father asked.
'Not too bad,' said Mr Weasley. '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 the three Weasley boys, Ginny, Harry, Canini, Theodore, Terence, and Hermione. “Which of these are yours, Arthur, and which belong to your friends here?'
'Only the four redheads are mine,' said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. 'This is Hermione, friend of Ron and Ginny’s—and then Terence is with Remus and Sirius, along with their kids Canini, Theodore, and Harry—'
'Merlin’s beard,' said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. 'Harry? Harry Potter?'
'Er—yeah,' said Harry.
Harry was used to people looking curiously at him when they met him, used to the way their eyes moved at once to the lightning scar on his forehead, but it always made him feel uncomfortable.
'Ced’s talked about you, of course,' said Amos Diggory. '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 played against Harry Potter!'
Harry couldn’t think of any reply to this, so he remained silent. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.
'Dad, I have been playing against Harry for years,' he muttered. 'I told you that it is no big deal...'
“Yes, but if you were born a couple years later you would not be able to regale about the times you went head to head with the Boy Who Lived!'
'Must be nearly time,' said Mr Weasley 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,' said Mr Weasley. 'Yes, it’s a minute off...We’d better get ready...'
He looked around at Harry and the others who had never done this before.
'You just need to touch the Portkey, that’s all, a finger will do—' With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the Thirteen of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory. They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. Nobody spoke. It suddenly occurred to Harry how odd this would look if a Muggle were to walk up here now...thirteen people, four of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting...
'Three...' muttered Mr Weasley, one eye still on his watch, 'two...one...'
It happened immediately: Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Canini and Theodore on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then—
His feet slammed into the ground; Ron staggered into him and he fell over; the Portkey hit the ground near his head with a heavy thud.
Harry looked up. Mr Weasley, Mr Diggory, Remus, Sirius, and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept; everybody else was on the ground.
'Twenty to seven from Stoatshead Hill,' said a voice.
