Chapter 77: Portkey (1/2)
Chris, felt she was about to sleep when suddenly she was being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley.
”Time to go, Chris, dear,” she whispered.
Chris barely opened her eyes and saw Hermione was ready to go and Ginny was getting ready.
Chris got up yawning and stretching, she got dressed and dragged her feet downstairs. In the kitchen, Fred, George, Ron and Harry were eating their breakfast with Mr Weasley who was wearing golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt. Chris rubbed her eyes to be sure if she saw correctly. Mrs Weasley pushed their bowls of porridge towards them. Chris sat down, but she didn't like to eat this early so she barely ate it.
”Why do we have to be up so early?” Ginny said eating her breakfast.
”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 Ton-Tongue Toffees(which make the tongue a foot-long). ”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. Then Mr Weasley, Chris, Ginny, Hermione, Ron and Harry 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.
Chris walked to Fred and George.
”You shouldn't have tried to smuggle the toffees like that.” Chris said.
”No need to lecture us Chris.” George said gloomily.
”Mother always thinks, we'll be respectful enough if only we get a job in Minstry like her older stupid son Percy.” Fred said angrily as he kicked a pebble.
”We don't want to be like him,” an angry George said. ”We're doing what we're good at. Is that a crime?”
”Of course not. I think you two are great Wizards.” Chris said smiling. ”I mean how many Wizards are here who can say they've invented something so unique just in their sixteen?”
”Agree.” George said punching in the air.
”It's just you should've put the toffees in my bag. It would've an easy smuggle.” Chris said grinning.
”Urgh. Right. Mom never had doubted you. Big mistake.” Fred said. ”Chris next time you're going to help us.”
”You got it.” Chris smiled as Fred and George high-fived with her. ”Do you know how are we going to go there?”
”I think we're going to use a Portkey.” George answered.
”What's a Portkey?” Chris asked curiously.
”It's like Apparating, but with a little help of a object.” Fred explained. ”They're objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time.”
”They use some kind of objects which are useless to muggles.” George said. ”But I always thought there was no need to do that. I mean muggles are usually very stupid.”
Chris glared at George, he hurriedly added, ”Muggles like Durselys... as Fred was saying, dad said, the nearest Portkey to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that's where we're headed.”
George pointed ahead of them, where a large black mass rose beyond the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.
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. It was freezing cold.
”Fast! fast.” Mr Weasley said as he and Harry crossed the Weasley twins and Chris. He checked his watch again and again as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. Finally they reached the top.
”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. …”
Everyone gathered around Mr Weasley.
”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 …”
”So we've to find a useless, small thing?” Chris whispered.
”You guessed it right.” Fred said smiling. ”What do you reckon it'll be George?”
”A useless and small thing, I guess.” George said.
Chris shook her head smiling and started searching the ground.
”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.
Everyone said hi, Ginny and Hermione replied suppressing their grin. Chris just replied with a smile.
”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, Ginny and Chris. ”All these yours, Arthur?”
”Oh no, only the redheads,” said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. ”This is Chris, friend of my daughter Ginny. That is Hermione Ron's friend — and Harry, another friend —”
”Merlin's beard,” said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. ”Harry? Harry Potter?”
”Er — yeah,” said Harry.
”Here we go again.” Chris whispered seeing Amos Diggory's face.
Ginny, Fred and George chuckled.
”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!”
Hearing this Chris coughed intentionally.
Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.
”Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” he muttered. ”I told you … still they won the match...”
”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!”