Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 455: Departure

The arrival of their friends made The Burrow even livelier than before. Everyone was laughing, shouting, and arguing, chasing gnomes in the garden or mock-dueling over the tables late into the night until Mrs. Weasley finally sent them off to their rooms.

The next day dawned early. Kyle was up at first light, dressed, and made his way to The Burrow. The Weasleys seemed to have just woken up too—hair tousled, yawning, and looking only half-awake.

“Darling, I was just about to wake you,” Mrs. Weasley said, coming over with a tray of pastrami sandwiches. “We’re leaving soon, so have a bite.”

Kyle nodded and took a sandwich, glancing over as Mr. Weasley eagerly showed Harry the muggle clothes he’d put together for the day.

“What do you think?” he asked. “We need to blend in, after all. Do I look like a muggle, Harry?”

Harry smiled. “Yes.” Though the mismatched golf shirt and jeans were a bit off, they were passable enough for any muggle street.

“Why aren’t Bill, Charlie… and Percy here?” Fred asked as he munched on a sandwich.

“They’ll Apparate over,” Mrs. Weasley said, placing a big pot of porridge on the table and ladling it into everyone’s bowls. “So they’re getting to sleep in a bit.”

Fred muttered something, his mouth too full of sandwich for anyone to understand.

Kyle sighed. He could Apparate, too, but he was still too young to take the licensing exam, so he had to get up early and go with the rest of the group.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway as Cho, Hermione, and Ginny entered the kitchen, looking pale and slightly disheveled, their hair resembling bird’s nests. Ginny plopped down at the table, grumbling about the early wake-up call.

Breakfast didn’t take long. After gulping down porridge and sandwiches, everyone was ready.

“Time to go! Have fun,” Mrs. Weasley said, glancing at her watch. “I’ll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy over at noon.”

With that, the group set off through the still-dark yard, heading toward a distant hill.

As they walked, Harry asked curiously, “Where’s the Quidditch match being held?”

“It’s been a real logistical nightmare,” Mr. Weasley sighed. “With about 100,000 wizards coming to watch, we couldn’t just pick a typical location. Imagine trying to cram that many wizards into Diagon Alley or Platform 9¾! So, we found an isolated swamp and have taken every possible precaution against muggles. The Ministry’s been working on this for months.”

“So, how are we getting there?” Harry asked. “On foot?”

“Of course not,” Mr. Weasley replied. “We’re using a Portkey. It’s a magical object that transports wizards from one place to another at a designated time. The closest one to us is up on the Stoatshead Hill—that’s where we’re headed.”

The journey was much longer than expected, and Kyle could hear Harry’s breathing grow heavier, especially as they climbed Stoatshead Hill. When they finally reached the top, daylight had begun to break, and everyone was already feeling worn out.

Mr. Weasley wiped the sweat from his forehead, panting, “Good, we’re right on time... ten minutes to go.”

“Yo, Arthur!” a voice called out ahead. A man with a brown beard stood there, holding an old, moldy boot in his hand.

“Come quickly! We’ve got the Portkey,” he called out with a grin.

“Amos!” Mr. Weasley said, smiling as he strode over to greet the man. Harry and Hermione looked over as he introduced him, “This is Amos Diggory. He works in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And here’s his son, Cedric—I think you all know him.”

Of course, they knew Cedric.

“Hi, how are you?” Cedric greeted everyone warmly before moving to the end of the line. He spotted Cho and walked over, smiling.

“Cho, did you sleep well?”

“It was all right. Just too early of a morning,” she said, cheeks flushed from the climb. Cedric, clearly smitten, couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Tsk…” Fred whispered to Kyle in mock disgust. “Why isn’t he looking at us? Are we invisible?”

“At least to him… pretty much,” Kyle said with a shrug.

“Ho ho,” George snickered. “I’d love to pop a balloon candy in his mouth, let him float all the way to the World Cup.”

“Put in two more,” Kyle suggested with a smirk, “make sure he floats high.”

While they muttered about Cedric, the adults chatted nearby.

“That was a bit of a walk, wasn’t it, Arthur?” Mr. Diggory said, passing Mr. Weasley the old boot.

“It was the only spot nearby without muggles,” Mr. Weasley replied. “And you?”

“We were up at two,” Mr. Diggory said, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll be honest—I’d have preferred it if Cedric could Apparate by now. But it’s worth it for the Quidditch World Cup; can’t miss it.”

“Where are your seats?”

“Top Box,” Mr. Diggory said proudly. “Chris helped Ludo Bagman out with something a while back, and we managed to get the best seats. Only one ticket, though, so I let Cedric have it.”

“No ticket for you?” Mr. Weasley frowned.

“There were regular seats available, but I passed on them,” Mr. Diggory said with a shrug. “I’ve got other things to handle while most people are tied up with the World Cup, so I’ll be busy anyway. Just keep an eye on Cedric for me?”

“Of course,” Mr. Weasley nodded. “But I thought you were a fan of Quidditch?”

“Oh, I am,” Mr. Diggory said, his voice rising in frustration. “But not this year’s teams! Peru didn’t make it to the finals, so what’s the point?”

Mr. Weasley nodded, remembering that Amos was an avid Peru fan. They’d been knocked out by Ireland in the semi-finals, and it looked like Amos was still bitter about it. Mr. Weasley decided it was best to let the topic drop.

“Don’t worry, Cedric’s in good hands,” he assured Mr. Diggory. Then he glanced at his watch and called out, “One minute left! Hurry up, everyone—get in position! Just make sure a finger touches the Portkey.”

The group, laden with large backpacks, managed to squeeze around the old boot Mr. Weasley held out. They formed a tight circle.

“Three…” Mr. Weasley muttered, eyes fixed on his watch. “Two… one…”