Mastermind

“Hermione! We were worried you might be stuck in the fireplace.” Mrs. Weasley rushed over to dust the shoots on her clothes. “Welcome home, dear. Ron is upstairs, and Harry should be here this evening.”

    “Thanks, Molly.” Hermione gathered her trunks and placed them by the fireplace, then released Crookshanks from his pet carrier. “There you go, and please don’t wander too far, okay?” she ruffled his fur and gave him a kiss on his head.

    Sounds of footsteps hurried down the stairs. The twins, Fred and George, flung their arms around Hermione as they lifted her up.

    “Finally, a fresh face.” George squealed before both he and his brother placed Hermione back on her feet.

    “We were going absolute bonkers having to talk to Ron and Percy, and Ginny on occasion when she decided to give a break writing letters to a certain someone.”

    “Who?” inquired Hermione her eyes

    “Michael Corner, Ravenclaw,” they replied in unison as they bumped shoulder to shoulder with each other.

    “Oi! That’s none of your business, you busybodies.” Ginny glared at the both of them, her hands placed on her hips. Giving them her best Molly Weasley impression.

    “Hermione, good to see you; how was your summer?” Ginny gave her a brief hug before leading her to the sitting room to sit on the settee by Molly’s knitting needles that were absently knitting on their own.

    “Wonderful, though it would be better if Harry and Ron didn’t ask me about the holiday assignments.” She shook her head disapprovingly.

    “Did you give in?” Ginny smirked; of course, she’d give in; they’re her best friends. If there’s one thing she knows about her brother, it’s that he’s not the brightest out of the three, and he’s most likely to have Hermione start his essay for him since the first year.

    “Harry’s just the introduction, and I gave Ron a three-paragraph head start.” she gave a weary smile at her.

    “Absolutely not! Hermione Granger, just because you like the boy does not mean you have to do his paper for him.”

    “He’s my friend, my best friend.” She defended.

    Ginny rolled her eyes.

    “Yeah, sure, best friend,” she reiterated. “he’s blind and daft like the gnomes in the garden, Hermione, and I’m pretty sure he sees you as one of the boys.”

    “Maybe he’ll see me differently this term.” she hoped. What was she thinking? There was no way Ron was ever going to notice her; her crush on him developed towards the end of last term, just a silly crush really.

    Ginny gasped. “That reminds me, the Triwizard Tournament is happening this year! Durmstrang and Beauxton will be coming to Hogwarts isn’t that exciting!” She folded her legs up on the settee. It’s going to be such a fun term.” She clapped her hands excitingly.

    “I think the tournament is barbaric. Didn’t someone die last tournament?” she inquired, though knowing well enough she knew who it was. The poor, unfortunate soul. She shook her head disapprovingly.

    “Accidentally, anyways, Dad said he’s got a surprise for us this evening ‘for us youngsters’ his words, not mine.” Ginny wiggled her brows.

    “Any idea?”

    “Not a clue; oh, we’ll be sharing rooms. I’ll take your bag upstairs.”

    “Mione, your orange grumpy face of a cat has a garden gnome in its mouth.” Yelled Ron from upstairs.

    “What on earth…” Hermione dashed to the garden and found the orange culprit with the helpless creature trapped between his paws, acting like a predator.

    “Crookshanks, no, leave it alone.” She warned him, but he continued to push and hit the creature with his paws, growling and hissing. “Crooks!” she ran and grabbed him before he bolted. “That’s it, no more outdoors for the rest of the afternoon.” She held him tightly to her chest and scratched behind his ears, which he purred approvingly.

    “Barbaric, that cat of yours,” Ron smirked, his lip curling upward.

    “Not as barbaric as your rat, who you’ve cuddled up with for the last 12 years of your life.” Hermione retorted with a playful smile that danced on her lips.

    “Hermione 1, Ronnikins 0,” George joked as he moved a chess piece on the board, demolishing Ron’s pawn.

    “I had him less than that, you know.” he rolled his eyes at his brother’s chess move. “Good to see you, Mione, and thanks for the headstart on my essay; I really appreciated it, though Snape should really tone it down for the holidays. Honestly, the git wants us to be miserable during the break.”

    “It’s Professor Snape, Ronald.” Hermione corrected, “And stop with the awful name-calling.” She crunched her nose in disgust.

    “I agree, Ronnikins.” A ghosted smile appeared on Fred’s face before disappearing. Ronald glared at him briefly before resuming his game.

                                                                                                                      ***

Everyone gathered for dinner that evening, Molly with her homemade special steaming pot of hearty beef and vegetable stew, the rich aroma of slow-cooked meat and herbs filling the air. Chunks of tender beef swam in a thick, savory broth alongside carrots, parsnips, potatoes, and onions, all seasoned with a generous handful of thyme and bay leaves plucked fresh from the garden.

    “Exciting news, everyone.” Arthur Weasley walked through the door with Harry behind him.

    “HARRY!” everyone dropped what they were doing to welcome him. George and Fred gave Ginny a cheeky smile when she hugged him, and she scowled at them in return. Hermione was the last to hug him as she settled back into her chair. Ron barely budged from his seat as he stuffed his mouth with another bread roll.

    Arthur smiled at the welcome Harry received; he walked over to Molly, gave her a kiss on her head, and placed his right arm around her. “Dinner smells lovely, dear.” he scanned the table; everyone seemed to be here and accounted for except Percy, who was still in the Ministry working late. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us tomorrow, love?” He whispered softly into her ear.

    Molly smiled and patted his hand, “I’m positive, Arthy, and besides, the lot of you will be hungry when you return.” she smiled lovingly at him.

    “Alright, if you insist.” Arthur left her side to stand at the head of the table.

    “Listen up, everyone.” All heads turned to face him. “Tomorrow, I want everyone bright and early before the crack of dawn. Pack a change of clothes, essentials only; we’ll travel light.”

    “You wake up late; you’ll be left behind and will be doing chores with me,” Molly warned them sternly, her hands placed on both sides of her hips.

    All heads nod in understanding. “Where're we going?” Ron asked.

    Arthur walked behind his chair and placed his hands on Rons’ shoulders. “It’s a surprise, Ronald; you and Harry better be up early and don’t stay up too late playing gobstone and go easy on the rolls; leave some for the rest of us.” he grabbed a roll of one of his hands, Ginny snickered at him before her eyes trailed and landed on Harry, she made sure not to linger longer on him and snapped her attention away.

                                                                                                                      ***

A pillow smacked Harry on the head; he stirred from his sleep as he groggily opened his eyes and put on his glasses as his focus came into view of a brown bushy mane in front of him.

    “Get up, Harry; we have to leave soon.” Hermione grabbed the same pillow, pulled back Ronald’s blanket, and hit him with the same pillow. “Wake up, Ronald, your mother is calling you.”

    “Bloody hell, Hermione, I’m up, I’m up.” As he scrambled to grab the blanket to cover him as he lay back in bed.

    “Now, Ronald!” Hermione threw the pillow one last time before retreating downstairs.

    “Like I said Harry, mental that one.” Harry shook his head at him.

    “Get up, Ron; we don’t want to be late to wherever we’re going.” Harry got up and packed last-minute items into his bag before bolting to the bathroom before it got occupied.

    Ugh….. Ron got up a few seconds later to pack as well.

    “Ronald Weasley, you better be up. Don’t make me come upstairs,” Mrs. Weasley yelled from the kitchen.

    “I’m up, Mum!” He responded.

    In the bathroom, Harry dried his face with a towel he grabbed from his trunk as he looked at his reflection. His hair got longer over the summer, and he never bothered to get a haircut. Maybe I needed a new look this term, he thought to himself. He thought of the night prior to leaving for the burrow and how his scar hurt for a couple of minutes that night.

    The last time that had happened Voldemort was close by, and there was no way he could have been in Private Drive; he would be so out of place. He shook his head; no, he couldn’t be anywhere near Privet Drive; that would be absolutely absurd.

    Last night, he woke up in sweats; he sat up panting. His scar hurt again, longer this time, but it stopped just as he thought it was going to get worse. He didn’t dream anything out of the ordinary, although dreaming of beating Slytherin again in the quidditch match seems out of the ordinary of what his dreams usually consist of.

    He was going to tell Hermione, but knowing her, she’d say, “Write to Dumbledore Harry. He’ll know what to do; in the meanwhile, I’ll have to check in the library to see if we can minimize the pain.” Or something along those lines; she was right, though: tell Dumbledore, and he’s going to as soon as he steps foot onto Hogwarts grounds.

    But first, tell Hermione he trusts her. She has been fixing his glasses since her first year, and she’s learned her lesson about keeping her mouth shut since the broom accident. Maybe he could let her in on this and see if she could help him secretly without telling anyone who still thinks he’s a freak or a savior to defeat He who must not be named.

    He gave a weary smile in the mirror before a knock broke his thoughts.

    “Harry, mate, my turn.” Ron banged on the door.

    “Yup, finishing up.” he grabbed his toothbrush and towel and opened the door for Ron.

    “All yours.” he grabbed his bag from the room and made his way downstairs to join the rest of the party.

                                                                                                                      ***

Everyone gathered in the Kitchen it was still dark outside. Arthur Weasley is dressed in his warm attire consisting of a pair of jeans that seem too big to fit him, but it’s being held up by a thick leather belt; he has on a white long-sleeve shirt with its collar peeking up underneath a brown patterned sweatshirt that seemed to fit him perfectly.

    “What do you think, Harry? Will I blend in with the muggles,” he asked anxiously

    “Absolutely,” said Harry, smiling, “you’d fit right in.”

    “Right on to business; Bill, Percy, and Charlie left last night to get a bit of a lie-in and set up a tent for us. We have a short walk ahead of us to get to the Portkey.”

    “A Portkey? What for?” Ron asked, baffled as his eyes widened in confusion.

    “We got tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, Bulgaria versus Ireland. It’s going to be one hell of a match; they’ve got Victor Krum playing.” Ginny couldn’t contain her excitement.

    “WHAT!!!!!!” Roared Ron, “and no one told me?”

    “It’s called a surprise for a reason, Ronald,” said Molly as she handed a bag to her husband containing their meals.

    “Funny enough, we found out yesterday,” Fed smiled smugly at him, biting into his apple. Molly eyed the twins and noticed a bulge in one of their pockets.

    “George! Empty your pockets,” said Mrs. Weasley sharply, which made everyone jump.

    “What? there’s nothing in it,” said George sweetly in a tone that fooled no one.

    Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at his pocket. “Accio!” several brightly colored objects flew out of George’s pocket; he tried to reach to grab it but missed as they all went into his mother’s outstretched hand. No doubt they were special toffees, particularly made by the twins who spent months developing it; this particular toffee makes the consumer’s tongue swell to an enormous size.

    “So this is the reason why you didn’t get more O.W.L.s!” She shrieked, balling the candies in her hand.

    “Welp, don’t want to be late; see you, mother.” Fed merrily led the way out the door, and his brother quickly followed. “We love you.” They replied in a sing-a-song voice, hoping to put a little distance between them and her before she started spewing hexes at them.

Everyone started heading for the door after the twins; “Have a lovely time, everyone, and behave yourselves.” She called after the twins’ retreating backs; they did not look back or answer. Molly gave Arthur a kiss on the cheek as he said goodbye and set off across the dark after Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

                                                                                                                      ***

They trudged down the dark, dank lane towards the village, the silence broken by their footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to the deepest blue. Hermione's hands and feet were freezing. Mr. Weasley kept checking his pocket watch.

    They didn’t have breath to spare for talking as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill, occasionally stumbling in the hidden rabbit holes, slipping on the thick black tuffets of grass. Each breath Hermione took was sharp in her chest and her legs were starting to seize up when, at last, her feet found level ground.

    “We’ve made good time-we’ve got about eight minutes.” Mr. Weasley searched the ground around him. “Now, where is this portkey, it won’t be that big…come on start searching.”

    Everyone spread out, searching. They had only been at it for a couple of minutes when a shout rent the still air.

    “Over here, Arthur, we’ve got it.”

    “Don’t just stand around; walk faster; we don’t have time.”

    Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

    “Hermione, I need to tell you something.” Harry slowed his pace to walk- briskly in sync with her.”

    “What is it?” She scanned him up and down to make sure he wasn’t hurt or anything.”

    “Stop eye-scanning me and listen.” He whispered. “It’s my scar. It’s hurting again. It did last night, and now it’s doing it again.”

    “Did it hurt any time prior? during the break?” She asked carefully, trying not to be pushy.

    “Yes, but only the night before leaving for the Burrow. Hermione, the last time this happened.” He looked at her worriedly.

    “I know, Harry, have you written to Dumbledore? Sirius?” she whispered in return.

    “And tell them what? Oh, hey, my scar hurts. What do I do? If I tell Sirius, he’s going to tell me to write to Dumbledore. It’s a maze of communication with him.”

    “We’ll just need to be on high alert during the game. Harry, listen.” She stopped walking to face him as everyone gathered around what looked like an old boot. “Thank you for telling me; as soon as we get back from the game, you’ll have to send that letter to Dumbledore; no matter how silly it sounds, he has to know,” she said sternly. “And I will do everything in my power to find out more about your scar.” Her tone uttered no lie, her face masked in all seriousness, protective over her friends. She will do all she can, and she means it.

    “Thanks, Hermione.” Harry smiled sincerely at her.

    “Hermione, Harry, touch the boot quick!” Mr. Weasley yelled.

    They reached in time to touch the manky old boot; they were suddenly pulled from their naval as they were sucked towards the boot. Their feet were lifted off the ground; they all banged into each other as they sped forward in a howl of wind and swirling color. Strong like a magnet, the boot pulled, and then all of a sudden…they hit the ground; well… everyone except Mr. Weasley, Amos, and Cedric Diggory.

    “Blimey,” Ron coughed as he rolled off the ground. “We’re… here,” He wheezed as he tried to get air into his lungs.

    “Breath, Ronald.” Hermione got on her feet and dusted the dirt off her jeans. She extended her arm out to Harry and pulled him up on his feet.

    Ron rolled his eyes at her and slowly got up on his feet. “It’s okay; I can get up on my own; I don’t need your help.” he snorted as he struggled to get up with his bag on his back.

    “You should lay off the dinner rolls in the future, Ron.” Ginny teased as she handed him his bag. The twins grinned beside them.

    “Arthur, are these your progenies?”

    “Don’t be ridiculous, Amos; the redheads are mine; this is Hermione Granger and Harry Potter,” he pointed to the two standing by Ginny, “friends of my second youngest, Ronald.” Mr. Weasley smiled widely as he pointed at Ron.

    Mr. Diggory chuckled, “I thought so,” he walked swiftly to Harry and shook his hand. “It is wonderful to meet you, Mr. Potter. My son Cedric told me all about the last quidditch game last term and how unfortunate that Gryffindor lost better next term, aye?” he chortled as he gave Harry a friendly smack on the arm.

    “He fell off his broom last term, father. Otherwise, they would’ve won.” Cedric tried to correct him.

    “Nonsense Ced, that was a fair game.” Mr. Amos brushed his son off and walked off with the boot to hand to the portkey collector.

    “Right, follow me, everyone.” Everyone gathered closely and followed Mr. Weasley through the mist; after twenty minutes of walking, the mist started to clear, and it appeared that they were on top of a hill; as the scene came into view, so did the sound of people, whistles, bells and all assortment of entertainment. There was a diversity of flags, people, all manner of creatures, and bizarre-looking tents.

    Harry’s face lit up in amusement; oh, he’d never dreamed of anything more magical than this, than Hogwarts even. This place was huge, filled with a vibrant atmosphere of people, places, and magic. Hermione stood beside him as she hooked her arm around his, and Ron stood on the other side with his arm flanked on Harry’s shoulder.

    “Welcome to the Quidditch World Cup,” Ron exclaimed with excitement in his tone. They looked at each other and laughed as they followed Mr. Weasley to their tent. They waded and brushed against people and sidestepped people on brooms, flying dangerously too close to people. Harry couldn’t help but look at everything, everywhere. He marveled, and his mouth gaped open at his surroundings.

    They approached a small-looking brown tent, surrounded by other small brown tents. Harry’s eyes narrowed in confusion as he watched Mr. Weasley, the twins, and Ron walk into the tent; he expected them to shuffle about and organize themselves in there, trying to designate corners to accommodate everyone.

    “Not everything is as it seems from the outside.” Ginny smiled sweetly at Harry and she held the front flaps open for him to walk in. “Woah!” he couldn’t believe it; the tent was so much bigger inside. There were designated rooms enough to fit them all; there was a sitting room, a kitchen, and there were even bathrooms. He looked around in amazement, marveling at the magic that went into creating the space inside the tent.

    “Close your mouth, Harry. It’s only an extendable charm.” Hermione smiled coyly at him.

    “It’s brilliant.” He beamed as he placed his bag on an empty bed.

    Ronald emerged from the kitchen with a tray of multiple colored paints and paintbrushes on it. “Somebody help me paint my face, please.” he groaned. “I can’t get the lines straight.”

    “I’ll do it,” Ginny volunteered too enthusiastically.

    After a good 45 minutes, Ron stood proudly with the colors of Bulgaria painted across his face, a deep scarlet red flag that stood vividly against his freckled face and ginger hair.

    Ginny sat up, a paintbrush in her hand, her face beamed proudly of her work on her brother’s face, “Who’s next?” she grinned from ear to ear.