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bbyx · 4 years ago

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ripple effect - part three

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

With help from some of the Ministry's interns, your tent was finally up. It was lilac purple with a beautiful satin finish. Walking inside always took your breath away just because of the sheer size of the tent. It smelt brand new and didn't have that homey feeling like the Weasley's tent but it would do for a couple nights.

(y/n) plops down on the bed. She opens up and rereads the letter that Minister Fudge had sent her father two months ago. You had started reading your dad's mail and answering for him since he was no longer capable of doing it himself. Your father had a very formal way of writing so it had been easy enough to imitate his handwriting to answer the Minister's letter.

You open the creamy beige envelope and pull out a sturdy white letter with gold embellishments. It reads:

Dear (f/n), I hope this letter is finding you in good health. I've heard that you have recently been traveling Europe in search of new properties. Barty and myself were wondering if you would be so kind as to join us for a meeting during the Quidditch World cup. The time is nearing and we must finalize the deal. Looking forward to seeing you, Cornelius

You tried remembering what you wrote in the answering letter. It went something like this.

Dear Cornelius, I am currently in Romania for business and I unfortunately will not be back in time for the Quidditch World Cup. However i've left my daughter (y/n) in charge of my business affairs while I am away and she would be delighted to join you. Barty and yourself can finalize the deal with her. Wishing you the best, (f/n)

Your father had started a real estate company when he was twenty four and it had grown into one of the most successful businesses in the wizarding world and in Britain. You assumed that the Minister and Barty Crouch wanted to buy a property but you didn't know anything further. It was a very secretive affair and you had searched your father's files extensively but there was no mention of this mysterious deal anywhere. You were essentially going in blind.

The meeting was going to be over dinner in the Minister's box during the Quidditch Match. (y/n) had time to kill so she walked back to the Weasley's tent.

You arrive just in time to see the Weasley twins and Ludo Bagman betting on the games.

"Personally I have to agree with Mr.Bagman, my money is on Bulgaria winning" You tease and the twins shake their ginger heads.

You hear sirens that signal the stadium has opened. You head over with your friends. The inside of the Quidditch stadium is just as breathtakingly festive as the outside. Red and green coats everything, it is filled with headshots of various Quidditch players and drunken voices singing national anthems.

"Blimey how far up are we dad!" Rom complains.

"Well, put it this way, if it rains you'll be the first to know." You turn towards the familiar cold posh voice. Lucius Malfoy.

You had grown up with the Malfoy's and practically spent half your childhood at their house. Narcissa has become a second mother to you after your own mother's death. (y/n) had her suspicions that her parents and the Malfoy's were hoping their children would get married but (y/n) cringed at the idea. It wasn't that you didn't like Draco but your relationship was more like cousins. He was like that one favourite cousin everyone has that makes all family gatherings fun. But you couldn't stand the snobby facade Draco put on whenever he was around other people. Like now.

"Father and I are in the minister's box. A personal invitation from Cornelius Fudge himself."

"Don't boast, Draco" Lucius says while nudging him with his cane. " There is no need with these people."

You rolled your eyes so hard it felt like you could see the back of your skull.

"Ah miss Deauxville, I believe you'll be joining us in the Minister' box." Lucius says in a respectful tone.

You hated how he talked to your friends like they were lower than you. Lucius nudges Draco with his cane and Draco immediately offers you his arm. You look back at the trio and mouth help me as you take Draco's arm.

"Have fun" Hermione says sarcastically.

The Minister's box is filled with house elves carrying trays of little delicacies and wizards and witches dressed in overly formal clothing. You immediately felt underdressed in your sweater and tennis skirt. But to your delight you could see the sweat glistening off their skin, after all it was still mid August.

A curly haired blonde woman in a ridiculously tight plum dress and green glasses walks over to Mr. Malfoy.

" Ah Lucius, darling, I see Draco has brought his little girlfriend along." She sneers at you, clearly not recognizing you. However you knew exactly who this was, Rita Skeeter, a slimy idiotic gossip columnist with worms for a brain. " Hope she enjoys this once in a lifetime opportunity to dine with such fine people."

You feel a hand on your shoulder.

"Miss Deauxville, so glad you could make it. The Minister would like to talk in his private room."

Rita Skeeter's face blanched when she realised you were a Deauxville and you follow Barty Crouch through a curtain into a smaller room with a round table and a huge window.

Seated at the table was Minister Fudge, you took a seat just as the team mascots stepped out on the field. The beautiful Bulgarian veelas danced on the field while the Irish leprechauns bounded with their gold, this angered the veelas who in turn transformed into demon-like bird creatures. The teams stepped out on the field, national anthems were played and the snitch was released.

"Well let's get this over with quickly so we have a chance to enjoy the game" You say.

Cornelius Fudge starts.

"Yes, yes well as I'm sure your father mentioned, the Ministry would like to lease a property for a couple months."

Just then Percy walks in holding a stack of papers.

"Here are the papers you asked for Mr.Crouch." He says importantly.

"Ah thank you Weatherby. You may go now."

You almost choke trying to stifle your laugh, earning a glare from Percy as he leaves. Mr Crouch hands you a stack of papers.

" The contract." He simply states. You're too distracted to notice the house elves bring the meal to the table.

You take your time to look it over for any loopholes. Normally your father would have his team of lawyers draw up his own contracts but this would do.

"You want to lease lot number 637? The two acres in the Black Forest, next to Hogwarts? You're sure?"

"Yes" The Minister replied looking uncomfortable.

"There are a few modifications we would like to do to this property." Barty Crouch cuts in.

"What kind of modifications?" You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well first we would like to cut most of the trees off"

You squawk.

"What! You realise that property will lose all value without the trees."

"Indeed but the ministry is prepared to compensate you for the trees and any fire damage." Mr.Fudge adds.

"Fire damage! What on earth are you planning on doing there!" You blurt out, you're voice rising several octaves.

" Miss Deauxville, we would tell you if we could, trust us it would make this so much easier, but unfortunately you are still a Hogwarts student and therefore we regretfully have to keep our lips sealed."

You decide to let it go. After all your father had done plenty of suspicious deals before he fell ill.

"How much are you offering?"

"370 000 galleons for eight weeks" Barty answers. You knew that property in the middle of the Black Forest was essentially worthless because of the aggressive centaurs that lived around it. They were offering a lot more money than expected so you quickly grabbed your pen and signed the contract. The two other men did the same. You got up to shake their hands and left the room.

(y/n) sat next to Draco and Lucius Malfoy for the remainder of the game. They made small talk but she couldn't focus on anything other than that property in the Black Forest.

Why the hell would the ministry be so eager to lease that dump? Why would there be fire damage? Why cut all the trees? Questions were swarming your mind like bees.

You look up when you hear the tremendous cheers coming from all the Irish fans. The game was over. You smile to yourself.

Those bloody Weasleys predicted it. Krum caught the snitch but Ireland won.

Both teams came up to the Minister's box to shake his hand. Everyone got up and clapped when the Irish team proudly walked in. The Bulgarian team stomped in with it's sulking seeker Victor Kum leading them. You started shaking hands with people you barely recognized just trying to get out of there as fast as possible. You shake Viktor Krum's hand and give him a warm smile, after all the guy had just lost the biggest game of the year, and he gave you a smile that never completely reached his eyes. Suddenly a bright flash blinds both of you. When you regain sight you see Rita Skeeter standing there with a camera.

"Beautiful photo" She says with the phoniest widest smile.

You finally join the Weasley clan and Cedric Diggory around a campfire later that night after the Malfoys had insisted that you have dinner with them.

"Where were you? I was getting worried. I mean. We. We were getting worried" Harry says quickly. The others give him strange looks.

"Stuck at a dinner with the Malfoy's." You sigh "If anyone mentions politics or the stock exchange one more time I will slit all your throats ok?" They all laugh and explain that they're playing truth or dare.

"Give me a dare! Give me a dare!" Ginny pleads.

"That's not how it works Ginny, you have to get picked." George explained.

"We've been playing for an hour and nobody's picked me !" She whines.

"Fine, eat this" Fred says, handing her a candy.

She pops it in her mouth and her tongue starts to swell enormously. She runs to find Mr.Weasley.

"She asked for it." Fred says, throwing his hands up.

They all keep playing, (y/n) not really paying attention. She was distracted by the Minister's words: "we would tell you if we could, trust us it would make this so much easier, but unfortunately you are still a Hogwarts student and therefore we regretfully have to keep our lips sealed."

"Cedric, truth or dare." George asks, smirking.

"Dare."

"Very well, your dare is to go ask one of those veelas on a date." He says pointing to a group of breathtaking creatures. You feel a pang of jealousy as Cedric gets up. Instead he comes and sits next to you.

" (y/n), how about a date?"

"Sure" You smile and turn red as George gets up, flailing his arms around..

"No no no. I said a Veela."

"George, are you a bloody idiot, everyone in Great Britain knows (y/n) is a quarter Veela." Hermione says.

Fred and George look at you puzzled.

"Really?" Asks Fred.

"Can you do that cool demon bird shit?" George looks at you suspiciously.

You laugh. "No! It would be kinda fun though if I could. But no, I can't turn into a bird or enchant men into falling hopelessly in love." You say making dramatic hand gestures.

" I don't know about that" Mumbles Harry. You shoot him puzzled looks.

As the night goes on the group keeps talking and playing various games. Your eyes start to feel heavy.

"I think I need to go to sleep." You mumble.

"You can always sleep with me." Fred purrs. Ron hits him with the back of his hand. Cedric's jaw stiffens as he glares at Fred. He looks like he's about to say something when Hermione cuts him off.

" I'll walk you back to your tent (y/n)"

You agree and say goodnight to everyone. As you're walking back you hear screams and see dark figures with masks levitating and torturing a muggle family. You and Hermione run towards the forest where you catch up with Ron and Harry. Ron trips. Lumos Hermione whispers and a bright glow appears on the tip of her wand.

You spot Draco leaning calmly against a tree close to you.

"Better go Hermione, unless you want to show everyone your underwear, if so stick around it would be tremendously funny" He sneers while gesturing to the levitating family.

How can he be so freaking calm when people are literally being tortured less than fifty feet away?

Harry and Ron start defending Hermione and question Draco about his parent’s whereabouts. Meanwhile, you're stuck in a trance watching the family of muggles being tortured and feeling helpless.

"Have it your way, Potter" Draco grins maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a mudblood, stay where you are"

Anger ripped through your body at the sound of those words and you were about to tear his vocal cords out and jinx him within an inch of his life when someone gently squeezes your hand.

"(y/n), let's go." Cedric says, his eyes pleading.

#cedric diggory #harry potter #draco malfoy #hp and the goblet of fire #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x reader #cedric x you #cedric x reader #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader

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llendrinall · 4 years ago

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(1) Draco, Harry, Hermione & Ron (aged 23) all are working on a case. Harry & Ron are Aurors. Draco & Hermione are both Healers & Unspeakables. The case is something like a bunch of Death Eater wannabes trying to resurrect the dark lord. So while busting in on their ritual all 4 are transported to their younger bodies at different times. Draco (5), Ron (7), Hermione (9), Harry (11) (The day before Hagrid comes to fetches him.)

(2) Harry and Draco were married so they use a phrase to each other so the other knows that they're the other and then plan a meet in the Room of Requirements. After confirming that Ron and Hermione (Married) are who they are too they go to the meet too. While each playing the roles they had the first time around. They then work out a plan for the war (Since Draco hasn't found a way back they plan to change things).

(3) Draco needs to play the bully/death eater and work to save the lives of the war victims. While Harry, Ron and Hermione work out the horcrux ect. Befor and during the war they secretly work to make preperations and stuff to minimize the damage while also playing their parts as school rivals. And they manage to minimize the deaths and they manage to save a lot of familiar faces. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, George ect.

(4) So after Harry kills Voldemort (He had an argument with Draco cuz Draco was worried he wouldn't come back this time) they're in the grand hall and everyone just sees the golden trio going to Draco with smiles. Ron gives him a handshake, Hermione a Hug, and shockingly Harry kisses him infront of everyone (Draco's parents are like "WTF?") And says "Told you i wouldn't die." "Shut up you bloody git". (In my head its a long fic with a LOT of stuff added. I just wanna know how you'd write this)

Mmh, yes this would be a long plotty fic, so I won’t detail the structure, just some of the elements I would use to build it.

First, I would have them go back to exactly one month before they turn 11. There is a very nice symmetry there and we avoid having Draco too long in his child’s body. An adult Draco in a 5-year-old body would be terrifying. Lucius would just flee the country.

So they go back to 11 minus one month. Harry and Draco have 1-2 summer months to get settled and start figuring things out, Ron gets around 7 months to think about family dynamics and draft a plan to contact his friends. Hermione has a whole year plus change to rage, study and come up with a definite plan to Get Things Right.

There is a beautiful tense scene as they board the train, because Harry and Ron don’t know if their friend is their old self or their young self. They are both very cautious around each other until Harry notices the way Ron looks at Scabbers and he knows. It just takes a couple of loaded comments afterwards to recognize each other.

Hermione barges in their compartment in her usual way and they have to drop some very heavy hints to remind her they are not alone. They can’t spook Pettigrew. Draco comes by, stares at Harry in silence for a whole minute and then passes him a note saying he can’t find the diary and also he ordered Dobby to go serve Harry, he should be waiting in Hogwarts. It is unclear whether Draco knows this Harry is the old Harry because Draco is, and has always been, kind of odd. It took them a while to discover it, but Draco is just a bunch or random powerful ideas held together with anxiety and fire. Harry loves him so much.

They go to Hogwarts. You would think that in this timeline Harry would be the most belligerent/hostile of them, but it is actually Hermione. Hermione is a nightmare student. She has a list of one hundred and fifty names and she is going to save all of them (except maybe Dumbledore and Snape). She has no time nor attention to waste in silly classes telling her what she already knows. She only comes to class sporadically, aces all her tests and hands out beautiful neat homework that barely took ten minutes out of her day to complete. Teachers hate her (or heavily dislike her), but they can’t expel her. It’s beautiful. The twins develop a crush on her.

Harry waits patiently until Christmas so Dumbledore can gift him the Invisibility Cloak and then announces that he is not going back to the Dursleys. Dumbledore insists. Harry says softly “by Jove, I will not” and Dumbledore thinks about that exchange for a week. He forgets about it when ten days later there is an incident in Transfiguration class and McGonagall discovers that Ron’s pet rat Scabbers is actually Peter Pettigrew.

(They were going to wait until Quirrell tried to steal the philosopher’s. Hermione insisted they couldn’t deviate too much of the original timeline or they would lose their advantage of knowing what was going to happen. If something was going to change, it was better to attach it to some other important event.

But Harry pointed out that it would be much easier to keep Sirius alive if he had some extra months of freedom and he didn’t have to live as a fugitive and Ron was certain that they would be fine even if they changed everything. It wasn’t just their knowledge of the events to come, it was their knowledge, period, their experience.

Ron is a man now, and adult, and he is kind of freaked out at the shenanigans they did when they were merely children. What were they thinking? Was there no competent adult to point out that were kids? It shouldn’t be up to them to rescue Sirius or Buckbeak, what in the seven hells.)

Anyway, Sirius is freed and Dumbledore is forced to explain everything about prophecies and love magic and blood protection early, because Harry insists he is going to live with Sirius. Harry agrees to go back to the Dursleys for two weeks, but Sirius has to come with him and no, he will not come as a dog, that’s demeaning. He will spend his time at the Dursleys as a human, thank you very much.

Sirius is the first adult to realize that there is something not quite right about Harry. The others had noticed that Harry was… special. But Sirius is the first one to see through, although he doesn’t know what he is seeing exactly.

Lucius still uses the Diary against the Weasleys, but this time Ron picks it up. Their first week back in Hogwarts, they all go for a nice excursion down to the Basilisk lair. They bring the Diadem, too. Harry speaks to the Basilisk and both horcruxes are destroyed.

The rest of the year is spent plotting. Draco takes on the role of the bully and plays it up to hilarious heights. He picks on everyone, and that’s everyone, except Neville and Luna. Funnily, Cedric Diggory is a big fan of him and always answers to Draco’s banter.

Draco suggests having a Duel Club to Lockhart. There has been no student attacks, of course, but Lockhart loves the idea and Draco wants the opportunity to fight Harry and make ridiculously sexually charged comments. They have five very nice duelling sessions until the curse of the DADA post acts up and professor Lockhart is unavailable the rest of the year.

(Harry tutors everyone in his year so this time people will actually now how to cast a protego. Ginny comes to the classes too and is by far his best student).

That summer, Ron has a very long chat with Percy explaining everything. Ron is now eight years older than Percy and understand why his brother fell to the Ministry and rejected his family. The Weasleys had pushed him that way, hadn’t they? Ron also understands that suddenly being nice to Percy and giving him recognition won’t work. It’s too late. But telling Percy they come from another timeline in which Fred died gets Percy’s attention immediately. Percy spends a whole weekend freaking out in silence (nobody notices, of course, and boy is Ron appalled at his family dynamics). Come Monday, Percy emerges relatively calm, all things considered. He has given himself a haircut and is resolved to infiltrate the Ministry.

The locket is destroyed that summer. They let Sirius and Kreacher do it.

They were hoping to have all horcruxes down before Voldemort rose back, but Pettigrew escapes Azkaban and Voldemort comes back a year ahead of schedule. (Early 4th year).

Dumbledore locates the ring. Despite warnings from all of them (and Snape) he still puts the ring on and gets a curse for it. Hermione says if he is going to be like that, she will take him from her To-Save list.

Barely eight months after Voldemort comes back to power, the Ministry is full of his followers. For now, Voldemort is happy with acting from the shadows, but soon he will want more and the four of them want to avoid open war as much as possible.

Percy sends Ron Helga’s cup, broken. Ron asks how he did it in case they ever find themselves in a similar situation (new timeline and all), but Percy only says that he asked politely. That means there are only two (two? Or is it one?) horcruxes remaining. Draco decides to speed things up, before Voldemort stars his terror campaign. He tells his father than Dumbledore has a mysterious ring with an interesting crest and that’s enough to have Voldemort attack Hogwarts with all his might.

It may not seem like a good idea, but if you think about it it’s much better to have dark wizards try to take over a castle than over a cottage where a half-blood family lives. Plus, now they don’t have to sweep Britain looking for Nagini. They can see her perfectly well down in the grounds trying and failing to eat Hagrid.

The battle draws on and almost becomes a siege. The Ministry comes to help, only they help Voldemort’s side, what with being infiltrated and all.

It’s still preferable to the years of the war.

Sirius has been put under a careful and insistent treatment of “Sirius, no”, so he actually stops when he is told to, he doesn’t follow Pettigrew to a trap and he isn’t killed by Bellatrix. Well done, Sirius! Another advantage of Sirius surviving, beyond the fact that he survived, yay, is that he gets to save Snape when Voldemort decides he might not be a good double spy after all. Snape hates the idea of owing his life to Sirius. It is very entertaining.

Neville kills Bellatrix Lestrange. Luna kills Nagini (and feels bad for it, and cries, sweet Luna, may she always have a soft heart). Peter Pettigrew dies in a freak accident in which both the giant squid and the twins are involved. Cedric Diggory bullies seven Ministry wizards into switching sides.

Things are going good. There are many wounded, more than the last time, but no dead, not on their side.

Harry knows he will have to die, again. And it will have to be Voldemort. He can’t risk having anyone else cast the curse (would they even meant it?). They have changed so many things… They can’t be sure that all those changes won’t coalesce in this one instant in time. They can’t be sure that Harry will make it back.

But Harry still goes, because that’s what he has to do. He tries to make things as similar as possible, act the same way, say the same things. Maybe having Sirius and Moody and Tonks and Lupin alive and well and fighting won’t matter if Harry just follows the script on this.

But just in case it will matter, just in case Harry doesn’t come back this time, he throws some ad lib.

“Hey, Tom,” Harry says, holding his thumb between his index and middle finger. “I’ve got your nose.”

Well, at least he can be sure that Voldemort means it when he cast the curse.

The honour of killing Voldemort falls on Hagrid this time. It isn’t pretty.

And Harry comes back. Draco forgives him just for having said that line.

#asks #harry potter #timetravel #Anonymous #verse: deaged #textpost

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bush-viper-cutie · 4 years ago

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“The Cloaked Fools” || YEAR 3 – Ch.26 (HP au)

Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 10/9/2020

Word count: 3, 058

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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“I’ve never been happier!” Ron exclaimed as he zoomed all over the field on the firebolt.

Heather and Harry were sitting on the grass watching Ron finally smile after a week of obvious misery. Harry was still in his Quidditch uniform and smelled of practice.

“ – And apparently Cho Chang’s their seeker – a fourth year – but Wood’s worry about her vanished the second I got up off the ground. I mean, you saw how fast I caught the Snitch! Took me like ten seconds to get from the goal post to the other side of the field!”

“Woooooh!” Ron zoomed passed them overhead.

Heather nodded. She was very happy for Harry, and was glad he’d surely win his game against Ravenclaw within a few minutes… But from what she’d seen from practice, even Slytherins should be terrified of playing against Harry. Draco’s Nimbus two-thousand-and-one was a joke next to the firebolt. If Gryffindor won against Ravenclaw, they’d be second place behind Slytherin. She couldn’t imagine losing the House Cup AND the Quidditch Cup this year. Slytherin always won the Quidditch Cup… this’d be their eighth year in a row.

“That’s great, Harry,” she said, trying to sound genuinely pleased for him.

Madam Hooch stirred in her seat and woke with a start. She had fallen asleep watching Harry’s game and was coming over with hands on her hips. She told them off for not waking her up and in the darkness they walked back towards the castle. Harry let Ron hold the broom a bit longer as they went.

“Why don’t you put it in the broom shed?” Heather ducked as Ron turned towards to her with the broom on his shoulders.

“Are you mad? Everyone with a broom has access to the shed! It’d be easy sabotage!”

“Wait!” Harry lifted a hand to stop them going any further up the stairs and pointed down at a nearby tree.

Two eyes blinked up at them from the darkness. Ron took out his wand and illuminated the area. The border of light reached the tree and Crookshanks waved his tail high at them.

“Get away! Go on! Get!” Ron yelled.

Crookshanks turned swiftly and sunk back into the darkness.

“Can’t believe she’s still letting him roam around anywhere! What if he eats someone else’s pet!” Ron scoffed and turned off his wand light.

They entered the castle just as night officially set.

“I think she doesn’t even know where he is.” Heather looked at Harry and saw he was still frowning. She knew he’d probably thought those were the eyes of the grim. She wanted to roll her eyes at him… but she remembered his last match. The way the clouds had looked like a large angry black dog right before he’d fallen fifty feet from the air... Heather dropped them off at the tower, giving Harry a big hug. “Rest well, alright?”

Harry nodded. “Don’t tell the Slytherins yet that I’ve got my broom back. I want to see their faces tomorrow morning.”

Heather nodded and skipped down the stairs. When she reached the main corridor on the ground floor, for a second, she felt the need to look both ways into the creeping darkness, like she’d find the grim’s shadow waiting for her, warning her that Harry would be in danger tomorrow; but there was nothing. She skipped down the corridor and down the dungeon stairs with ease. As promised she didn’t tell Marcus or Draco anything and went straight to sleep.

The next morning, she sat at the Gryffindor table with Wood, waiting for Harry and Ron to make their big entrance. Heads turned and students gasped as Harry entered holding up the firebolt, making sure not to knock it on anything. Heather glanced over at the Slytherins and saw Marcus’ look of fury and Draco’s look of disgust. Her arms hurt instantly at the thought of Marcus doubling their practices after this.

“Look at that!” Wood helped Harry set the broom in the center of the table, pushing plates of food away and turning the handle so it showed ‘firebolt’ at the top in golden letters.

Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were coming over, gasping and aweing at it. Penelope Clearwater asked Harry if she could hold it but Wood swatted her hand away.

“No chance at sabotage, lovely.” Percy held her hand. “We have a bet going on,” he informed them.

“Though I think he knew his chances better than I did when we made it.” Penelope scowled and walked away.

Percy leaned into Harry. “I don’t have ten Galleons so… win this one, alright?” He turned and walked over to the Ravenclaw table, joining his girlfriend in some toast.

“Look at Malfoy,” Ron whispered, drawing attention to Draco’s widened eyes and pressed lips. “This is brilliant!”

“Congratulations on the broom, Harry.” Cedric Diggory smacked his shoulder. “If we’d gotten a rematch I’d be worried.”

Harry smiled and nodded as he left back to his table. “Everyone’s so impressed…”

“And scared, as they should be.” Wood didn’t take his eyes off the broom. “Harry’s you’ve got your dementor problem figured out have you?”

Fred and George laughed. “They’re not coming back onto the grounds.” Fred jabbed a thumb up at the High Table. “Dumbledore’d freak.”

Heather followed his thumb up at a merry looking Professor Dumbledore enjoying his eggs. He looked so different from when he’d gotten furious at the dark-hooded creatures that had entered and made Harry fall. He’d looked even madder than Professor Snape did now, scowling down at his food next to Professor Lupin who chattered away with Professor McGonagall.

“You sure you can handle that broom, Potter?” came Draco’s cold, sharp voice, slicing through the Gryffindor’s enjoyment.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned. “Yeah, I reckon so,” he said casually, almost smiling as Draco’s face turned back to disgust.

“Heard it’s got all sort of new features. Think catching you when you get too near a dementor’s one of them?” Draco smiled maliciously.

Crabe and Goyle snickered behind him.

Heather’s hands slowly reached her face, ready to cover her eyes at what she knew was coming.

“Shame you can’t attach an extra arm to yours. Then it could catch the Snitch for you.” Harry said, turned back to the team as they burst out laughing.

Heather watched through her fingers as Draco almost smacked him where he sat. He gritted his teeth and stalked away, Crabbe and Goyle at his heels. He sat back with the Slytherins and her team put their heads together. She’d likely get a talking to from Marcus again, as if she could do anything about Harry having the firebolt back.

The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw team set out for the locker rooms and Heather stayed behind with Ron as the chatter of the room reached peak excitement.

“Where’s Hermione?” Heather looked around.

Ron shrugged avoidantly. “Was doing homework at one of the desks when we left. Who cares if she wants to miss the greatest Quidditch match of the decade. Well – ” he looked at Heather, “second to the Gryffindor, Slytherin one after this.”

She rolled her eyes. Technically it would be Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff afterwards if Ravenclaw lost – or should she say ‘when’ they lost, but she refrained from correcting him, getting the point. After several more minutes, the whole school was getting up to make their ways to the stadium.

Ron and Heather ran to find seats, excited to see Harry in action.

“We’ll be sitting for two minutes max,” Ron said, gripping the railing in front of them. “I know it.”

Harry made his way onto the field with his team, and the Ravenclaws walking out at the same time looked unusually nervous. Heather easily spotted the Ravenclaw Seeker that Harry had talked about. She was shortest of both teams… and also the only girl on the team. Heather knew what that felt like.

“They waved at each other,” Heather told Ron.

“Who?”

He was distracted looking at the score as if it’d change in a blink in the presence of the firebolt. If Hermione was here she’d be raising her brows. Harry hadn’t yet talked of any girl to Heather, but she thought that was about to change. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Was this the moment they’d start talking to each other about crushes? If he started liking this Cho Chang, would she be doomed to crush on someone too? Would he even tell her? Were crushes something twins talked about?

At the whistle the teams kicked off and Heather’s thoughts were erased when Harry zoomed around, showing off how fast he was. The crowd lost it, cheering and screaming and whistling. Gryffindors were yelling for Ravenclaws to forfeit on the spot and Professor McGonagall had to come down from the announcer desk to tell them to calm down.

Lee Jordan wasn’t doing any better than them. “LOOK AT THAT FIREBOLT EVERYONE. RAVENCLAW MUST BE QUAKING ON THEIR BROOMS. IT’S ONLY BEEN OUT HALF A YEAR AND IT’S ALREADY THE BROOM OF CHOICE FOR THE NATIONAL TEAMS AT THIS YEAR’S WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP – ”

“ – FOCUS ON THE GAME, PLEASE, MR. JORDAN,” Professor McGonagall interrupted as she reached the announcer desk again.

“JUST ADDING SOME BACKGROUND INFORMATION FOR THE ANTICIPATION – ”

“THERE’S NO NEED FOR THAT.”

“ALRIGHT… GRYFFINDOR IN POSSESSION WITH KATIE BELL HEADING STRAIGHT FOR THE GOAL…”

The Gryffindors were laughing at Lee and Professor McGonagall’s exchange. Harry was streaking around the air with Cho not far behind. She seemed to be a good flyer. She hadn’t noticed how good she was when Slytherins were playing Ravenclaw, but she must have given Draco a good scare. Harry sped up suddenly and Cho got left behind as hard as she tried to stay on his trail. Harry really was no match for any Seeker at this point.

There was a golden dot on the edge of her vision and Harry saw it too. The Snitch was near the ground, close to the stadiums, and Harry was rushing for it. The Ravenclaw Beater hit a Bludger several feet in front of Harry to make up for his speed and narrowly missed Harry’s head by an inch, making him veer off course. The Snitch was gone and Heather was horrified at the advanced thinking the Ravenclaw must have gone through to time the Bludger near perfectly.

“Boooooooh!” the Gryffindors yelled at the Ravenclaw Beater. The Ravenclaws cheered for him, however, asking him to do it again.

George hit a Bludger at him in frustration, making the Ravenclaw Beater roll in midair. Heather wished she was on her broom, playing with them. She loved doing midair rolls; they were her signature move.

“GRYFFINDOR LEADS BY EIGHTY POINTS TO NONE – AND LOOK AT THAT MAGNIFICENT FIREBOLT. CHANG’S COMMET JUST CAN’T COMPETE – LOOK AT THAT PRECISION-BALANCE DURING POTTER’S LONG – ”

“THE GAME JORDAN!”

“ – THREE GOALS FOR RAVENCLAW BRINGING GRYFFINDOR’S LEAD DOWN TO FIFTY!”

Harry was flying by towards the Gryffindor goalposts where the Snitch fluttered. Cho sprang up out of nowhere, halting Harry’s movement.

“Don’t be a gentleman! Knock her off her broom!” Wood yelled at him from the goalposts.

Harry started again and was gaining on Cho in an instant, until she exclaimed and pointed down. Heather leaned over the railing at what Cho had pointed to and saw three cloaked creatures entering the field, looking up at them as they approached.

Harry extended his arm, yelling “Expecto Patronum!” and from the tip of his wand, a silvery-white orb shot out, knocking the three dementors to the ground. Heather blinked, stunned, and the crowd was cheering.

“POTTER’S CAUGHT THE SNITCH.”

In the time it took for the dementors to hit the ground, Harry had gotten to the Snitch before Cho and was holding it up for all to see. The end-of-game whistle blew and the Gryffindor team was barreling towards Harry, hugging him on their brooms, unable to wait until they could all touch down.

“Did you see that!” Ron was pulling her down the stadium benches and down the stairs. “Did you see!”

“Of course I saw! I was right next to you.” Though Heather had to admit several of her blinks got in the way of seeing Harry’s actions.

They ran onto the field followed by a crowd of Gryffindors and joined the Gryffindor team in cheering for Harry. Fred and George were lifting him up as best they could as they jumped up and down, not being too careful about not dropping him.

“That’s ten galleons for me! Thanks Harry!” Percy yelled over the cheers. “Excuse me – excuse me – Penelope!” He pushed his way out of the crowd.

“Ruddy brilliant, Harry!” Hagrid boomed from the back, being tall enough to spot him at the center of the crowd.

Fred and George set Harry down and Professor Lupin placed his hand on his shoulder.

“That was quite the patronus.” Professor Lupin looked a bit startled.

Heather felt a pang of jealousy. If she’d continued practicing with them, would she have one like Harry? Or would she have still not been able to produce even a silver wisp of one.

“They didn’t even affect me! I felt nothing from them!” Harry finally let go of the Snitch.

“That’s – er… because they weren’t dementors.” Professor Lupin looked back in the direction of them.

The crowd started to disperse and as Heather, Ron, and Harry approached the ‘dementors’, they stood, ripping off their cloaks and revealing themselves to be Crabbe, Goyle, Draco, and Marcus. It was like an episode of one of Dudley’s favorite mystery cartoons. How hilariously embarrassing, however, Heather couldn’t partake in Harry and Ron’s laughter.

“Gave them quite a scare.” Professor Lupin was on the verge of laughing too.

Professor McGonagall was marching towards the four of them with hands on her hips and Heather imagined Marcus was about to get a nasty detention that’d take up all their practice times. It was too much for Professor Lupin and so he left them, holding a hand to his mouth to hide his smile. Ron was on his knees, pounding the ground with laughter and pointing at Draco who glared at them with as much fury as he could muster.

“Harry!” George called out. “Party in the Gryffindor common room!”

Harry looked over at Heather sheepishly and she sighed. “Oh, go. I think I have to help them out with this anyways.”

“I don’t see why.” Ron wiped a tear away. “Actually, see if they can get double detention!”

“Come on.” Harry pulled Ron away and they left together.

Heather made her way over to Marcus and Draco as Professor Dumbledore approached as well, stopping next to a still furious Professor McGonagall.

“Trying to sabotage the Gryffindor Seeker! Fifty points from Slytherin! Unbelievable! I’ll be telling Professor Snape about this!”

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. “No need, he’s making his way down now.”

Heather looked over and saw Professor Snape walking very slowly down the stadium steps, no doubt incredibly annoyed. She shook her head. “I can’t believe you guys thought this was a good idea.”

“You saw how fast he was going!” Draco hissed.

“But now you’ve lost us fifty points!” Heather huffed. “What if we’re tied now!”

“We’re not,” Marcus growled.

“Not yet,” Professor McGonagall said, dangerously calm.

“Well.” Professor Snape stopped at the foot of the cloaks dumped on the ground. “Shall we discuss this in my office?”

“So you can get them off with a slap on their wrist?” Professor McGonagall raised her brows.

“No,” Professor Snape spoke slowly. “But I won’t allow you to conveniently give them detentions during every last one of their scheduled practices.”

“Afraid you’ll finally lose this year?” She smiled.

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Perhaps you two should reach an agreement first. For now,” he turned to them, “You will stay in your common room until you are given your detention slips.”

Marcus, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle nodded. Heather followed them out, walking next to Draco who kicked at every rock. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape bickered behind them, though Professor Snape seemed to enjoy Professor McGonagall’s anger.

“Did you even see what Cho was doing? She was countering Harry really well.” Heather shook Draco’s arm to snap him back to reality from whatever pit he had fallen into in his mind.

“No. I know how she plays. I caught the Snitch too remember? She was easy to beat.” He kicked another rock as they reached the stairs.

“But she played differently, didn’t she? Cutting Harry off.” She was growing more and more afraid as she realized Draco hadn’t bothered to learn anything from seeing Harry fly. Maybe she’d do better as Seeker, seeing as how she was always helping him improve.

They’d reached the common room door and Professor Snape followed them in. A horrible sign.

“You four,” he looked at them each except for Heather. He stepped closer, making them shrink. “Why don’t we have a chat in Draco’s dorm. Shall we?”

They gulped and headed into the boy’s dormitory. There was a slam of a door deeper inside and the muffled yells of Professor Snape telling them off. Heather sat at a chair, chin resting on the top of the back rest, knees tucked into the cushion, and waited for the doors to open once more.

The yelling ended, the boy’s dormitory door flung open, and suddenly there was a flurry of black robes cutting through the air as Professor Snape strode across the room using the full extent of his long legs to exit as fast as possible, his hair blowing back in the wind.

The common room door closed and Draco, Marcus, Crabbe and Goyle stepped out. Draco came to stand by her.

“I hate your brother,” he said, crossing his arms. “If we get too much detention, you’ll have to go out with me to show me what you saw that Ravenclaw Seeker do.”

Heather raised her brows. “Me?”

“Well he’s your brother isn’t he? It’s a Potter’s fault, so a Potter will fix this.”

Last time she checked Draco wasn’t a Potter and it was his own fault he was in this mess. Though, the idea was ridiculous enough to have been Marcus’ to begin with. Still. Someone who follows a fool must be a fool themselves, or very nearly one.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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sirius-archive · 6 years ago

Text

Chaos Theory Part 5

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 5380

A/N: Finally oh my gosh this took freaking ages to put together! YAYY for Cedric and Draco coming back, I love writing them (esp Draco :P) I’m finding that, the more I write this, the more pairings I add to the story. In the end, I think I’m going to make it so you can choose who you want to end up and write different endings for each potential love interest. Annnyway, here you go. P.S. I’m super proud of my giffing skills atm, see the above! a gif by yours truly.

Chapter Five:

There’s something whimsically surreal about the Burrow.

It seems to glisten from the ground up as though someone had sprinkled gold dust over it. From where you’re standing, you begin to appreciate how beautiful it is in the light; standing tall against the backdrop of rolling hills and lush, green grass, inviting you in without having to use words.

You’re standing in the backyard, waiting for someone, though you’re not sure who. It’s more like a feeling like you’re anticipating something you’re not sure will happen. There is a faint buzz humming in the air, like the beating wings of a thousand butterflies. The sky is like a painter’s palette; a blend of soft blues and vibrant pinks, like those honey-glazed moments right before the sun sets.

It’s like a poet’s dream.

“(Y/N)?” says a familiar voice. You’re smiling before you even turn around, knowing who is standing behind you without even looking.

“Cedric,” you sigh, whirling around and throwing yourself into his arms.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says, kissing your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, lips spilling over your skin like he can’t get enough of you.

“I know,” you whisper, softly, as his lips move against you like water, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he reassures, voice gentle in your ear as his hands card through your hair, “Besides, a mouse never trusts a hungry snake.”

You freeze as, suddenly, the voice in your ear trails off into a cold, sharp hiss, and the world around you plunges into darkness. Cedric untangles himself from your embrace, stepping back as his face distorts before you, revealing his true form.

You watch in horror as black bleeds into that deep, deep blue in his eyes, filling out every corner as though he were possessed by something sinister. His head distorts into a spade-like shape, neck elongating, his nose flattening into two thin slits and he sheds his bronze skin, a snake-like pattern stretched over his muscles and veins. His lips pull back into an insidious smile, cold and cruel like the edge of a scythe, revealing sharp fangs and a long, forked tongue that pokes out and curls in the air, testing, tasting for prey.

The fluttering noise gets louder, more insistent, like an orchestra of shrieking violins, warning you to run, run, run!

“You’d better wake up now, mouse” the snake monster hisses; it sounds like the blood-curdling shriek of nails scraping across a chalkboard, “Before you forget how to.”

You wake up to green eyes in the dark.

Belladonna Nightshade, better known as Nightshade, Bella, Belle or simply B, peers down at you curiously, blinking owlishly. She’s perched on your chest, her gaze now sharpening from curiosity to expectancy as she silently demands food, though there’s something in those green eyes that suggests that she had sensed your discomfort and pulled you from your nightmare as an act of mercy.

Sometimes, Belladonna Nightshade is more human than she is a cat.

Your hands tremble as you reach out and pat her, your fingers raking through her soft fur. She leans into your touch, purring in delight, and she does that adorable cat thing with her eyes where she closes them and eases into your roaming touch, as though she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, on your chest, her paws pressed into your cheeks.

“Hey B,” you whisper, voice raspy and low. There’s a dry, scratchy sort of taste in the back of your mouth like you had just been stifling a scream. You swallow thickly and reach beneath your pillow, pulling out the photo that’s been buried underneath since it arrived one week ago.

You unfold it and stare at the symbol on the back. Why would someone send this? Why were they spying on you in the first place? Is it a threat or a warning? Has Cedric received one, too?

“Oh, good! You’re awake,” Says a voice in the doorway, and your vision swims as you try to focus on the figure in front of you.

Hermione strides over and stands next to you, already showered and dressed, hair tackled and tamed into a bushy ponytail and an irrefutable air of anticipation buzzing around her. It’s such a startling contrast to your nightmare that you have to reassure yourself that, in reality, snakes don’t usually protrude from people’s necks.

Usually.

“Mrs Weasley said she’ll cook some blueberry pancakes for us if we all get ready in time.”

You nod curtly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and swallowing the imaginary cotton-ball stuck in your throat. Nightshade leaps from your chest and onto the floor, rubbing herself against Hermione. Hermione bends over and scratches Nightshade’s head.

“Did you have another nightmare?” Hermione asks, but the look in her eye tells you that she already knows.

A knot forms in your stomach, like a strong, calloused fist is squeezing it into submission. You nod wordlessly, your thumb scraping across the corner of the photo as though you were deliberately trying to get a paper cut. Hermione places Nightshade on the floor and sits by your side.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, staring at the photo.

“Not really,” you murmur, fingers rubbing nervous circles on your wrist and feeling your pulse thump beneath the delicate skin, “I just want to forget about this stupid thing.”

You toss the photo to the ground and Hermione picks it up again, unfolding it. She studies it intensely, brown eyes dragging across every inch of the photo and the symbol on the back.

“It does seem odd that they’d send you a photo of you and Cedric,” Hermione muses, distantly, “and how does this symbol relate to Cedric? Do you think he got one as well?”

You shrug as you stare at your wrist. It’s red from where your nails have been furiously scratching away at the ache.

“And what do they mean by ‘A mouse does not trust a hungry snake’? Are you the mouse in this scenario? Or are you the snake? Are they trying to warn you about something? Are they saying you can’t trust anyone?” Hermione sighs and slaps the photo on your bedside table, “The more I stare at it, the more questions come to mind.”

“That’s why I want to pretend it doesn’t exist,” you mumble, climbing out of bed, “And, before you ask, no. We’re not telling Harry or Ron or anyone about this, okay?”

Hermione nods, opens her mouth to say something, but you can’t talk about it anymore right now, you just can’t. Being on edge for an entire week has turned your stomach into a mosh pit, nerves crashing and colliding and crackling like the frayed edges of tangled electrical wires, and you don’t think you can verbalize any of it without dissolving into an existential crisis.

“Thanks,” you give her a half smile, drawing a carefully guarded expression across your face. You smile at Nightshade and she saunters over, her tail curling into a question mark shape. She leaps into your arms and you rush out of the room, evading any more discussions on the topic.

Knowing Hermione, she will probably want to talk to you later. And that’s okay for now. But, at the moment, it’s best to leave some things unspoken, like seeing your crush transform into a horrid snake monster.

***

Breakfast is an awkward ordeal.

True to her word, Mrs Weasley did make some of the fluffiest pancakes you have ever tasted, and you enjoyed every bite, even if you did have to shovel in as many mouthfuls as you could. Still, you enjoy sitting with the Weasleys; they have this rare ability to make you feel like you’re one of them.

It’s even better seeing Luke. You take a moment to study him, watching him carefully. He’s wearing his favourite, borg-lined denim jacket, black jeans, black converses and a broad grin as he challenged Bill Weasley to a quick game of Wizard Chess.

Over the course of the week, you had watched Luke slowly heal from your father’s surprise-turned-disaster visit. Now, he seems so different again. It makes you wonder how many masks he had for separate occasions. But this morning, he seemed so…unguarded. Happy, even.

“Come on, William,” Luke teases, grinning, “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Bill snorts a laugh, “I’m not scared. I’m just not an idiot. You Arden’s are far too cunning for your own good.”

Luke shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m feeling lazy today…”

“I certainly hope not,” Percy Weasley snaps from the kitchen, “It’s the first day of school and all you’re concerned about is playing a game of Wizard chess! You need to sort out your priorities.”

“And you need to get laid, Percy Weasley,” Luke grins, watching as a deep red flush burns up Percy’s neck, “I can tell you’re suffering from a classic case of Blue Bludgers. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, we’ve all been there. Well, not all of us.”

Everyone bursts into a furious fit of laughter except Hermione and Percy, the former looking like she’s teetering along the edge of amusement and embarrassment, the latter looking as though he may explode.

Percy opens his mouth to scold Luke but is interrupted by Mr Weasley, who bursts into the kitchen, shrugging into his work robes, and swipes a piece of toast from the table and straightening his glasses.

“Morning kids,” he says as he passes, rushing into the study.

While everyone is distracted, you turn to Harry, who sits next to you.

“Have you heard from Sirius?” you whisper, and Harry turns to you, green eyes tinged with a hint of worry.

“No, not yet,” Harry replies, “I’m not sure where he is, though, so it could take weeks before I get a response.”

You nod, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “You’re right. It’s probably better that he doesn’t reply straight away anyway.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, “Why? Is something wrong?”

You think about telling Harry the truth, showing him the photo burning through the fabric of your mini denim overalls but you don’t really know where to begin. Plus, with everyone crowded in the kitchen…

“I’ll explain later,” you murmur, eying Ginny as she tries to lean into the conversation, “Now isn’t a good time.”

Harry nods, then fixes his eyes on your bottom lip. He stares as though he’s transfixed, an interesting shade of pink brushing against his cheeks as his pupils dilate ever-so-slightly. You freeze, feeling your own cheeks burn under the intensity of his gaze.

“What? What is it?”

“There’s–there’s something on…” He trails off and hesitantly raises his hand, swiping the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, “There. Got it.”

His fingers hover over your skin, ghosting across your cheek as though he wants to cup it but some sort of invisible barrier is preventing him from breaking through. Something flares inside of you as you watch him, wondering what’s going on inside his brain.

The sound of shattering glass shocks you from your trance, and you both nearly leap off your chairs. Ginny is grimacing, her face flushed as her eyes dart between you, Harry and something on the floor.

“You alright, Ginny?” Bill asks from across the table. Luke springs from his chair and walks around the table to Ginny’s side.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ginny murmurs, her lashes fluttering as she blinks rapidly, “I just…dropped a glass. That’s all.”

Ginny glances between you and Harry and an expression of hurt flickers across her face, disappearing completely as she turns away from you and Harry.

Luke draws his wand, points it at the shards of glass scattered across the kitchen floor, and mutters ‘Reparo.’ Small pieces of glass trapeze through the air and piece themselves together like a jigsaw puzzle, forming a glass. He pats Ginny on the back and she smiles sheepishly up at him.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Fred continues as Luke sits back into his chair, “Mr Diggory – also known as (Y/N)’s father-in-law – was saying that Mad-Eye Moody’s put in another complaint. Apparently, someone tried to ambush him last night. Again.”

“He’s lost it,” Charlie mumbles through a mouthful of pancakes, “Also are we going to ignore the whole ‘(Y/N)’s father-in-law’ joke?”

“Did he ever ‘have it’ in the first place?” Luke asks as he absentmindedly plays with his food, “Besides, why would anyone try to ‘kidnap’ him in the first place? His house is basically a burglar’s nightmare.”

“I guess we are going to ignore it,” Charlie shrugs and stabs his fork into another pancake.

“I concur,” Percy chimes in, “Moody’s a raging lunatic and he shouldn’t harass Mr Crouch with his pathetic, baseless complaints. Mr Crouch is a very busy man, he shouldn’t have to put up with Moody.”

“Well, you would know,” George says, grinning wickedly, “You are Mr Crouch’s bitch boy.”

Percy scowls dangerously at George while Luke and Fred snicker. Luke even leans across the table and pumps his fist on George’s.

“Father is rather fond of Moody,” you interject, and Luke’s expression falters, his lips quirking ever-so-slightly, “He respects Moody, even if he is a little…. senile.”

“Yeah, well, fuck that,” Luke huffs, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice, “Adrien Arden only ever cares about people who look good on the front page of the Daily Prophet. If their faces sell copies, then he’s their best friend. He did the same thing to Sirius Black; he wasn’t afraid to drag Sirius’ name through the mud, even though there wasn’t even a trial for him.”

You, Hermione, Ron and Harry exchange a furtive look,

“You think he’s innocent?” Hermione asks, a faint tinge of pink staining her cheeks.

“I don’t know,” Luke shrugs, “I’ve looked into his case and I’ve just…I’ve seen a lot of inconsistencies. A lot of his case is sensationalized. Anyway, it’s a good thing that Sirius escaped. I wouldn’t wish the Dementors kiss on anyone.”

“A good thing?” Percy chides, hotly, “The whole ghastly ordeal has been a pain in the Ministry’s back, especially for–”

“–Mr Crouch,” Fred finishes, rolling his eyes, “Yes, Barty’s Bitch Boy, whatever you say.”

Everyone laughs, once again, including Hermione. Except, you think it might be out of relief rather than amusement.

***

You arrive at Platform 9 ¾ with a good ten minutes to spare.

Surprising, really, given that breakfast had been such a rushed ordeal and it felt like it had taken months to get ready. Still, after cramming into the Ministry-loaned car and uttering a string of silent prayers to gods you don’t even know, you managed to pull up to Kings Cross Station.

You and Ron had rushed through the barrier together and emerged on the other side grinning. It was always such a thrill, running through the barrier. Of course, Nightshade didn’t care for it, and as soon as you clambered onto the platform, she had meowed loudly, hoping to be released from her carrier.

“I know Belle,” you coo as you poke your finger into her carrier, stroking her fur. Nightshade nuzzles into your touch, rubbing her nose on your finger, “I’ll let you out as soon as we’re on the train.”

A burst of loud guffaws echoes across the station, and you turn to find Luke with his friends. Luke glances at you, his lopsided grin broadening.

“I’ll see you on the train,” you hear him say, “I’ll just be a sec.” They tease him as he shoulders past them and jogs toward you. You smile and cross your arms over your chest, cocking your head as you watch him.

“Aw, come to kiss your little sister goodbye?” you ask, cooing mockingly, as Luke pulls you into a one-armed hug.

“Actually, I came to say goodbye to Nightshade,” Luke jokes, scratching Nightshade through the bars of the car carrier, “And to tell you that I’ll be sitting with my freinds if you need me.”

“You better not let Caleb and the boys see you like this,” you tease, poking him in the ribs, “They’ll think you’ve gone all soft inside.”

“Maybe I was soft to begin with,” Luke suggests, planting a kiss on the crown of your head, “Seriously, though. You need me, come and find me and I’m yours.”

You roll your eyes as Luke gives you one last hug and stalks off to his friends, who wait for him patiently. Behind you, you hear hurried whispers engaging in a heated argument, and you turn to find Ron and Harry murmuring amongst themselves. Your ears strain to listen, but you can’t hear over the chatter of the crowd. You’re about to approach them when you someone nudges your shoulder with their own.

“Looks like you’ve caught someones attention,” Hermione smiles, nodding toward someone in the distance, and you follow her gaze to Cedric Diggory, who smiles and waves cheerily at you.

You swallow, your chest fluttering. Even though you’ve seen him enough in your nightmares let alone your daydreams to recognize him from miles away, he still catches you off guard, like some invisible force has swept you off your feet. A strange, tingling knot forms in the pit of your stomach, tightening then slackening then tightening again and even though it should be painful, it’s not. It’s...peculiar, in a terrifying sort of way. Familiar, yet it surprises you every time.

You blame it on hormones.

Still, spotting Cedric Diggory amongst the bustling crowd has a way of reducing all your thunderous thoughts to mere whispers, chasing them into the base of your skull. You bite your lip, a calming, sanguine wave of relief washing over you, washing through you, trickling down your spine and filling the spaces between your ribs.

“You should talk to him,” Hermione gives an encouraging smile, “If the secret love letters are anything to go by, he’s really been missing you.”

“How did you find out about them?” You ask, incredulously, eyes wide and cheeks burning.

“I didn’t,” she laughs, “You just told me. Right now, actually.”

You glare at her, equal parts frustrated and impressed by her tactics, though you can’t fight the smile flirting around your lips. Knowing that he’s missed you and having someone verbally confirm it has two radically different effects on you, and both of them are good.

“What about you guys?” You ask, tossing a nervous glance at Harry. He’s stopped talking and is ignoring Ron as he watches you carefully, as though he’s trying to listen to your conversation. You think back to earlier that morning when he had grazed his thumb across your bottom lip, his touch meek and hesitant but at the same time curious and warm.

“(Y/N), we’ve just spent nearly two weeks together,” Hermione reassures you with a hand on your shoulder, “I’m sure Harry and Ron can forgive you for choosing to spend one train ride with Cedric. Besides, you might be able to ask him about the…” she trails off suggestively.

You turn back to Cedric, who is making his way through the crowd as you speak.

“Okay,” you smile, biting your lip, as you watch Cedric. He’s wearing a white v-neck beneath a denim aviators jacket and jeans. He’s even better than any fantasy you’ve ever seen of him.

Several other girls seem to agree, because they giggle and whisper as he passes them, eyes following him until he’s standing in front of you.

“Hello, (Y/N),” Cedric beams, blue eyes soaking you in warm, cerulean waters, “Hello Hermione.”

“Five minutes until boarding and departure,” a voice booms over the crowds, and you and Hermione glance at each other, an unspoken understanding passing between the two of you.

“I’ll go and get Ron and Harry,” Hermione murmurs, smiling, a silent suggestion dripping from her lips. She glances between you and Cedric one final time before flouncing away.

“So...” Cedric blurts, trailing off into an awkward silence.

“So,” You echo, grinning.

Cedric runs a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck. He gazes at you, blue eyes twinkling as they bashfully sweep over you.

“So,” Cedric repeats, fiddling with his shirt, “I was thinking that – if you want – we could, maybe, sit together?”

“What about your friends?” You ask, glancing back at the group of Hufflepuff seventh-years watching your exchange from a distance and grinning teasingly.

“Oh they’ll be fine,” Cedric flaps a dismissive hand in their direction. He seems to know that they’re watching and no doubt joking amongst themselves, “They’re not babies.”

You nibble your smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and the folded photo in your pocket seems lighter already, “Okay.”

Cedric smiles, and it’s as though he’s been kissed by sunlight.

***

Somehow, you end up sitting crossed-leg on the floor, blindfolded and at Cedric’s mercy.

He shifts, leaning forward, and he’s so close, close enough for you to breathe in the scent of his shampoo and bottle it inside your ribcage like a fine wine. You inhale, trying to drink him in and you taste sunlight on your tongue; warm and reassuring and melting your fears away.

“Okay, I promise this one isn’t a gross one,” Cedric says, and you can almost hear the smile on his words. There’s a scratchy rustling of a cellophane plastic bags, and the scrape of thin, flimsy cardboard like it’s been ripped open, “Ready?”

You nod and part your lips. A moment later, Cedric pops the jelly bean between your lips and you bite down, strawberries and cream oozing onto your tongue.

“Mm,” you hum, smiling, “Strawberries and cream.”

“I love that one,” Cedric confesses, “You’re good at this game.”

You shrug triumphantly, “I’m good at anything to do with food.”

There is a brief moment of silence while you enjoy the jelly bean as the rich, creamy flavour melts down your throat. But the silence continues, lingering, stretching, and even though you’re blindfolded, you can still sense hesitation in the air.

“Is there something wrong?” you ask. A beat of silence passes, where you assume Cedric has just shaken his head because he gives a little laugh.

“No, nothing is wrong,” He murmurs, “I’m just…admiring how beautiful you are.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck and burn in your cheeks, the knot in your stomach tightening, but the feeling fades a little as you feel Cedric trace a finger down your jaw, his thumb dragging across your cheek. You lean into his touch, your entire body tingling with anticipation, as you sense him shift closer, closing the inches between you, and he’s so close, you can feel his lips ghosting over your own, testing, hesitating, and Merlin it’s happening, it’s really happening–

Shattering glass echoes down the corridor and you and Cedric jerk apart.

“What was that?” Cedric asks, and you push your blindfold over your head, climbing to your feet.

“I’m not sure,” you muse, sliding the compartment door open and stepping out of the compartment.

You immediately want to shrink back into the room.

Draco Malfoy is prowling the corridor with his goons, Crabble and Goyle in tow, following him loyally like a persistent shadow. They look as though they’ve just won a fight and they’re basking in their glory, snickering amongst themselves like scheming snakes. You start back toward your compartment, but you already know it’s too late; you can sense Draco’s pale-blue eyes roaming over you like a predator assessing its prey.

“Don’t suppose you’ve heard the news yet, Arden?” he asks, smugly, knowing that you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.

“I really don’t care,” you sigh, exasperated with the conversation, “Now excuse me–”

“–you’re excused,” he drawls, like he’s bored already, “Though I’d watch my back if I were you. Potter seems to be in a miserable mood lately. You ought to find yourself better friends.”

You glare at him, blood pulsing hot and red and burning the cushion of your veins, “Don’t tell me what I ought to do, Malfoy. I’ve always been patient with you, but that doesn’t mean you can push me.”

“I can do what I want, and you know it,” he scorns, an annoying, haughty glint in his eye, “I can get what I want, too.”

Crabble and Goyle, snigger trollishly.

“And what is it that you want, Malfoy?” you ask, a sharp brow raised indignantly as you stare at him.

Malfoy’s eyes glitter with shades of blue and silver as they study you, sweeping across every fine detail on your face, and there is something distinctly masked about his expression like he’s showing you something he shouldn’t be as he contemplates, hesitates, before scoffing,

“Just–watch yourself. You and Potter think that you’re invincible, prancing around like little lovers. But you shouldn’t trust anyone.”

Your scowl turns into mild interest as you narrow your eyes on him, recognizing his thinly-veiled threat.

“What is that supposed to mean, Malfoy? And why are you telling–” you trail off into a stutter, blinking in disbelief.

Are they trying to warn you about something? Are they saying you can’t trust anyone?

The photo in your pocket itches. You wrench it out of your pocket and unfold it hastily, fingers fumbling around the edges.

“Do you know what this is?” you ask, thrusting the photo into his hands.

Draco sniffs as he stares down at it, flattening it out so he can get a better look. His expression shifts, rippling with more expressions you’ve ever seen before, before he settles on disdain.

“It’s a photo, Arden. I can’t believe I had to tell you that, Merlin.”

You roll your eyes, seething, as you snatch the photo from his grasp and shove it into your pocket. “I know that. I mean, did you have anything to do with it?”

Draco scoffs, narrowing his eyes on you with haughtily, “Do you really think the world is that obsessed with you? Of course not. Not everyone is in love with you.”

“That’s not what–you know what? It doesn’t matter. You don’t deserve another minute of my time,” You whirl around and storm off, reaching for the handle of the compartment door when Draco suddenly calls out.

“Underwood.”

You’re not sure if you heard him at first, until you turn around and notice that he had strode toward you to catch up. Draco’s eyes travel between you and the photo in your pocket.

You furrow your brows in confusion, “Excuse me?”

“Underwood,” Draco reiterates, “Noah Underwood. You know, the only person weirder than Potter? He’s in our year. It looks like one of his photos. He’s the only idiot I know who uses a stupid, muggle camera.”

You cock a single brow as your eyes scan Draco’s face, giving him an appraising look, “How do I know if what you’re telling me is the truth?”

“Just ask him,” Draco snips, coldly, “You’ll know then.”

“Is everything okay here?” someone asks from behind you, and you turn to find Cedric watching your exchange with Draco suspiciously.

Draco’s expression falters, something malicious flashing in his eyes, like a fork of lightning splitting the sky in half.

“Everything’s fine,” you say, soothingly, “This conversation is over.”

Draco shoves past you and disappears down the corridor, his eyes never leaving yours as he passes. You absentmindedly pat the photo in your pocket.

Noah Underwood. Draco was right about him being a little…odd. He was alone, a lot of the time, people were probably repelled by his standoffish personality. You didn’t really know well, having only spoken when it was absolutely necessary (for instance, in Potions you had once been paired with him and even then, the only words that he murmured were soft-spoken instructions that you could barely hear over the bubbling potion) but what you did know was that he is currently the only muggleborn in Slytherin and that his sister died last year in an unfortunate accident.

In a way, you pitied Noah Underwood.

You wait until Draco is out of earshot before turning to Cedric, peering up at him apologetically.

“I’m sorry to do this to you but I have to go and talk to Hermione,” you say, giving him a meek smile. Cedric smiles, understanding without verbalizing it, and drags a gentle finger up your jaw, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart swells at the affectionate gesture and, without even comprehending what you’re doing, you reach up and give him a quick peck on his cheek.

You breathe in the subtle notes of his cologne and savour them in your chest as your lips linger for a second longer than necessary. Cedric winds an arm around your waist, holding you to his chest for a brief moment, where you can hear the rhythmic beating of his heart. You have to muster every ounce of your willpower to tear away from his side and flash him a smile before flouncing away.

When you finally reach Hermione, Harry and Ron’s compartment, you wrench open the door and stumble inside, noticing the air shift around you.

There’s an undisguisable tension that weighs heavy in the air. Ron’s arms are crossed over his chest, Hermione is reading a book, and Harry is staring out of the window. It looks as though they’ve just had another argument.

Another argument that they’ve had without me

“Hey, (Y/N),” Hermione smiles, lowering her book. There is a faint brush of red over her cheeks, recognizable only to those who truly know her, “Is everything alright?”

“Can I speak to you for a second?” you ask, ignoring the penetrative stare that Harry’s eyes are drilling into you.

Hermione nods, standing, before following you out of the compartment. You pull her aside, enabling others to pass as you talk.

“I think I know who took the photo of me and Cedric,” you murmur, and Hermione’s brows shoot up toward her hairline as you continue, “Draco recognized the photo as one of Noah Underwood’s.”

“What?” Hermione breathes, brows creased in thought, “How can you trust that Draco is telling the truth?”

“I can’t,” you sigh, shrugging, “But I’ve got nothing to lose by asking him. I have to follow every lead I find.”

“But (Y/N)–”

“Hermione, Noah Underwood is the key to all of this,” you whisper, trying to convince yourself that it’s true, “I know it.”

And even if I’m wrong, I still have to get to the bottom of this

***

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readbookywooks · 8 years ago

Text

The Portkey

Harry felt as though he had barely lain down to steep in Ron's room when he was being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley. "Time to go, Harry, dear," she whispered, moving away to wake Ron. Harry felt around for his glasses, put them on, and sat up. It was still dark outside. Ron muttered indistinctly as his mother roused him. At the foot of Harry's mattress he saw two large, disheveled shapes emerging from tangles of blankets. "'S time already?" said Fred groggily. They dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk, then, yawning and stretching, the four of them headed downstairs into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as the boys entered and spread his arms so that they could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt. "What d'you think?" he asked anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito - do I look like a Muggle, Harry?" "Yeah," said Harry, smiling, "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 Mrs. Weasley, 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." Harry knew that Apparating meant disappearing from one place and reappearing almost instantly in another, but had never known any Hogwarts student to do it, and understood that it was very difficult. "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 Mrs. Weasley. "And where have those girls got to?" She bustled out of the kitchen and they heard her climbing the stairs. "You have to pass a test to Apparate?" Harry asked. "Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley, tucking 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 property 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 Mr. Weasley, 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....." Harry had a sudden vision of a pair of legs and an eyeball lying abandoned on the pavement of Privet Drive. "Were they okay?" he asked, startled. "Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley 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 Mrs. Weasley, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers. "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. "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 Mr. Weasley. "Walk?" said Harry. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?" "No, no, that's miles away," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "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 Mrs. Weasley sharply, and they all jumped. "What?" said George, in an innocent tone that deceived nobody. "What is that in your pocket?" "Nothing!" "Don't you lie to me!" Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, "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 Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hand. "We told you to destroy them!" said Mrs. Weasley 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 an unpleasant 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 Mrs. Weasley managed to find them all. "Accio! Accio! Accio!" she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans. "We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at his mother 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 they took their departure. Mrs. Weasley was still glowering as she kissed Mr. Weasley 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 Mrs. Weasley, "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," Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley, as he, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off across the dark yard after Fred and George. 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. Harry, having been thinking about thousands of wizards speeding toward the Quidditch World Cup, sped up to walk with Mr. Weasley. "So how does everyone get there without all the Muggles noticing?" he asked. "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. 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...." 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." 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 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 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. "This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. 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. "Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all. 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 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, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. "All these yours, Arthur?" "Oh no, only the redheads," said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. "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. 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 beat Harry Potter!" Harry couldn't think of any reply to this, so he 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'd 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!" "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 Hermione. "You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do -" With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the nine 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...nine people, two 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 Ron and Hermione 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, and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept; everybody else was on the ground. "Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.

#GobletofFire #HarryPotter

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