ons. 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
45
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.
46
"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.
47
"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.
48
"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