The arrival of friends made the Shabby Residence even livelier than before. Everyone made a noisy racket, chasing gnomes in the garden or making two tables duel each other with their wands, until Mrs. Weasley drove them back to their rooms late at night.
The next day arrived.
At the break of dawn, Kael was woken up. After getting dressed, he headed to the Shabby Residence.
The Weasleys seemed to have just gotten up too. Everyone's hair was a mess, and they kept yawning, all looking half-awake.
"Dear, I was just about to come get you," Mrs. Weasley walked over, holding a plate of corned beef sandwiches. "We'll be leaving soon—come eat something first."
Kael nodded and picked up a sandwich to take a bite.
Next to him, Mr. Weasley was showing Harry what he was wearing today.
"Well? What do you think?" he asked eagerly. "We should keep a low profile when we go. Do I look like a Muggle, Harry?"
"You do," Harry replied with a smile.
Even though a golf shirt didn't really go with jeans, it was decent enough. No one on the street would think it strange.
"Where are Bill, Charlie… and Percy?" Fred asked between mouthfuls of sandwich.
"Don't they know how to Apparate?" Mrs. Weasley set a huge pot on the table and began ladling porridge into everyone's bowls. "So they get to sleep in a bit longer."
Fred mumbled something, but nobody understood a word with his mouth so crammed with sandwich.
Kael let out a sigh.
He could Apparate too, but he wasn't old enough yet and hadn't been able to take the test for his license. Apparating without a permit would be trouble if the Ministry of Magic found out, so he had no choice but to get up early and head out with the group.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. Cho, Hermione, and Ginny entered the kitchen, all looking pale and with hair like three birds' nests on their heads.
Ginny slumped beside the table, clearly not pleased at being up so early.
Everyone had some porridge and wolfed down a few bites of sandwich, not wasting any time.
"Time to set out. Have a great time!"
Mrs. Weasley glanced at the time. "I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy over around noon."
Then they crossed the dark yard and walked toward a little hill in the distance.
On the way, Harry asked curiously about where the Quidditch match would be held.
"Organizing this is a huge headache."
At this, Mr. Weasley let out a sigh. "There'll be about a hundred thousand wizards coming for the World Cup. Of course, there's nowhere that big—the thought of squeezing a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or Platform 9¾ is just ridiculous.
So we had to choose some desolate marshland and take every possible precaution against Muggles. The Ministry has been busy with this for months."
"So how are we getting there?" Harry asked. "Walking?"
"Of course not," said Mr. Weasley. "We're using a Portkey. It'll transport wizards from one location to another at a set time. The closest Portkey is up on Weasel Mountain, so that's where we're headed."
The walk was much longer than they'd expected—especially climbing Weasel Mountain. Kael could hear Harry's heavy breathing getting louder.
By the time they were back on level ground, it was fully daylight, and everyone was completely exhausted.
Mr. Weasley wiped the sweat from his forehead, panting, and said, "Good, we're right on time… ten more minutes to go."
"Hey, Arthur!" a voice called suddenly from ahead. A man with a brown beard was standing there, holding a moldy old boot.
"Come on, we've already found the Portkey!"
"Amos," said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who'd called him.
Cedric was standing beside him, waving at them with a smile.
"Let me introduce you," said Mr. Weasley, looking at Harry and Hermione. "This is Amos Digory, works in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And this is his son, Cedric. I think you all know him."
Of course they knew Cedric.
"Hi, everyone!" Cedric walked over and greeted them, then headed right for the back of the line.
"Cho, how'd you sleep last night?"
"Not bad, just a bit too early."
Because of the hike, Cho's cheeks were rosy, and Cedric could hardly take his eyes off her.
"Tsk…" Fred said to Kael with a look of distaste. "Why doesn't he ever look at us? Are we invisible or what?"
"Pretty much, as far as he's concerned…" Kael replied.
"Heh heh," George gave a weird laugh, "I really want to shove some Balloon Candy in his mouth. Let him float up to the World Cup pitch."
"Give him two," said Kael. "Make him float even higher."
While Kael and the others conspired about Cedric, the grown-ups were still talking.
"Long walk over here, eh, Arthur?" Mr. Digory asked, handing him the old boot.
"No helping it—this is the only place nearby where Muggles won't randomly wander by," Mr. Weasley said. "What about you?"
"We got up at two," Mr. Digory rubbed his eyes. "To be honest, I'd love for Ced to pass his Apparition test soon, but can't complain… It's the Quidditch World Cup, after all—wouldn't miss it for anything."
"What tickets did you get?"
"Top box," Mr. Digory said with a broad grin. "Chris took care of a little problem for Ludo Bagman recently, so thanks to him, I got the best seats.
Shame there was only one left, so I decided to let Ced go."
"You didn't get a ticket for yourself?" Mr. Weasley frowned.
"I was offered a stand ticket, but I turned it down," Mr. Digory shook his head. "But that's all right—you know, most people are wrapped up in the World Cup right now, but the other side of things is short-handed.
Ludo said you'd be there too, so keep an eye on Ced for me, will you?"
"Of course, no problem," Mr. Weasley said. "But I seem to remember you're a huge Quidditch fan yourself, aren't you?"
"That's right, but not of these teams!" At this, Mr. Digory's voice rose dramatically. "Peru didn't even make the final! What's the point in watching this World Cup?"
Mr. Weasley then remembered that Amos was a staunch Peru Team supporter. That team had been knocked out in the semifinals by Ireland.
Seeing Amos still fuming and ranting about match-fixing, Mr. Weasley wisely chose not to say another word. He just nodded, "Don't worry, I'll take good care of Cedric."
Then he checked the time and called out loudly:
"One minute to go! Hurry over! Everyone get into position… Just put out a finger to make sure you're touching the Portkey!"
Everyone, with their bulging backpacks, finally managed to huddle around the old boot in Mr. Weasley's hand.
They all stood there, packed closely in a circle.
"Three…" Mr. Weasley stared at his pocket watch, muttering, "two… one…"