The Portkey
If there was one thing to be known about Ronald Weasley, it was that he loved Quidditch. He hadn't gotten the chance to play outside of amateur matches with his brothers in the yard, but he studied it relentlessly and practically worshiped his favorite teams and players. The Quidditch World Cup, as far as he was concerned, was the pinnacle of excitement.
Even he was doubtful, however, that the Quidditch World Cup was worth getting up before the crack of dawn and walking over two miles before he'd had a proper breakfast.
He was in a fatigued, quiet mood most of the hike, not quite ready to talk to anyone until they'd reached the destination he was so eager to get to. The morning was fairly pleasant- as pleasant as it could be that early in the day- and it wasn't until they'd reached Stoatshead Hill and saw the other family who was using the Portkey that Ron's spirits dropped ever so slightly.
The Diggorys had always appeared, to Ron, as proud and rather insufferable at times. He knew Amos Diggory only from his father's recounts of work and a few of his visits to the Burrow, but he knew the man was one of the Ministry types that liked to pass himself off as very important and well-connected, and that could easily come off as an insult to someone like Ron's father. He personally resented the son, Cedric, for his victory against Harry and the Gryffindor Quidditch team last year in what had been completely unfair circumstances, and couldn't see why all the girls thought him so handsome and charming. As for the daughter, Diana- well, she was no different from the rest of her family.
He accidentally caught Diana's eye as their fathers were talking, and quickly looked away so as not to give the impression that he was thinking about her. She was wearing a grey coat and jeans- Muggle clothes, he noticed, which looked a bit unnatural on her, as he only ever saw her in Hogwarts robes. She wasn't bad looking- she never was, really. With her shiny dark hair and large grey eyes, he understood why some boys thought her attractive. Not that he did. Not in a million years.
"Long walk, Arthur?" Mr. Diggory asked.
"Not too bad," his father replied. "We live just on the other side of the village. You?"
"Had to get up at two, didn't we, kids? I tell you, I'll be glad when they've got their Apparition tests. 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..." he looked at Ron, his siblings, and Harry and Hermione. "All these yours, Arthur?"
"Oh, no, only the redheads," his father said, pointing them out. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron's- and Harry, another friend-"
Mr. Diggory's eyes widened. "Merlin's beard. Harry? Harry Potter?"
"Er- yeah," Harry replied, looking bashful.
Mr. Diggory said, "Cedric's talked about you, of course. 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!"
Ron couldn't resist a slight glower. That hadn't been a fair game, everyone knew it. Harry was twice the Seeker Cedric was, even at his worst. Fred and George looked offended too; naturally, as they were on the team. Cedric and Diana, to their credit, at least had the decency to look embarrassed.
"Harry fell off his broom, Dad..." Cedric muttered. "I told you, it was an accident..."
Mr. Diggory clapped his son on the back. "Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you? 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!"
Ron's father must have sensed the growing agitation from his boys, because he pulled out his pocket watch and said swiftly, "Must be nearly time. Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"
"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," Mr. Diggory replied. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"
"Not that I know of," his father answered. "Yes, it's a minute off... we'd better get ready..." He looked at Hermione and Harry and explained, "You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do..."
The eleven of them crowded around the old boot Mr. Diggory was holding, a tight fit thanks to their bulky backpacks. Ron found himself sandwiched between Harry and Diana, She gave him a condescending look he felt was entirely uncalled for, so he gave her a contemptuous one back. He almost missed his father counting down, "Three...two...one..."
Ron felt a sudden jerk forward; his feet were yanked off the ground and he was spinning in midair, his shoulders colliding with those on either side of him. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, his feet slammed into the ground and he staggered sideways into Harry, causing the both of them to fall. Mr. Diggory, Cedric and Ron's father were the only ones still standing; he felt a small sense of satisfaction seeing Diana sprawled on the ground like the rest of them.
He heard a voice somewhere above them say, "Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill."