The Scars to Prove It

Before anyone knew it, they were leaving the Burrow behind.

Fred, George, Farren and Carina walked for a while in near silence behind Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Mr. Weasley. The twins were still frustrated at the loss of their product, and Carina was used to silence. But finally, when Farren could take it no more, she spoke.

“How did you do on your OWLs?” she asked Carina, nudging her with a hip. Carina’s face broke into a wide smile.

“I got an E in Transfiguration!” Carina said gleefully. “My weeks of studying paid off!

“Oh Carina, excellent! I am so happy for you!”

This seemed to rouse Fred and George. “Hey,” said Fred, “I got an E in Transfiguration too!”

“How about you, Georgie?” asked Farren.

“Unfortunately,” said George as he slung his arm around her shoulders, “you will not be blessed with my presence in that class. I got an A.”

Farren and Carina frowned together.

George noticed. “Hey, but don’t worry. I’ve got Herbology, which Freddy failed.”

“I did not fail it! I got an A, just like you did in Transfiguration. We each got three.”

“What were your other two?” asked Carina

“We both passed Charms and Defense,” said George.

“What about you two?” queried Fred.

Carina smiled again. “O’s in Herbology—”

“Of course,” interrupted Farren. Carina rolled her eyes and continued.

“Care of Magical Creatures, and Potions. E’s in Transfiguration, Charms and Defense. A’s in Astronomy and History of Magic.”

“Very nice, Ri.”

“Nothing less than what we expected, of course.”

“How about you, Farren?”

“Ten OWLs. And she didn’t even have to try,” said Carina.

Farren laughed. “Not quite. I got a T in Muggle Studies. And a P in Care of Magical Creatures. And D’s in History of Magic and Astronomy.”

Her friends gaped. “How did you get a T in Muggle Studies?” asked Carina. “How did I do better than you in Muggle Studies?!?”

“I failed it intentionally. It was dead boring. I already know the purpose of an electric stove, thank you very much.”

By this time, their group was falling rather far behind Mr. Weasley and the others; they had already reached the top of the hill while Farren, Carina, Fred, George were still at the bottom.

“You guys coming or not?” called Ron from above.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Ron. We’re coming!” called Fred.

They began their march up the hill. By the time they got to the top, they were all out of breath. Carina was bent over struggling for breath. Fred and George were on their hands and knees, and Farren had collapsed on the ground.

Just as they were catching their breath, they heard two voices coming up the other side of the hill.

“Ah, Arthur,” said the voice.

“Amos, you’ve got tickets as well?”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. And Cedric has been dying to go.”

At the name “Cedric,” Carina straightened at lightning speed. Farren thought she heard her spine crack.

“Are these all yours?” Amos Diggory asked.

Arthur laughed. “No. Mine have the red hair. This is Farren, Carina, Hermione, and Harry, friends of my children,” he said, gesturing to all of them in turn.

While Amos fawned over Harry, Cedric worked his way toward them.

“Good morning, Cedric” greeted Carina.

Farren scoffed under her breath. “There isn’t anything good about any morning this early.”

“Come to flaunt your accidental win just like you dad is?” asked Fred.

Carina blushed and shoved him. “Shut up—”

“No, he’s right. My dad is a little over the top. The only reason we did win that one was because of the dementors. But I’m an only child, so my dad has to brag about someone. But how was your summer, Carina?”

Before she had a chance to reply, they were called over to the portkey: an unfortunate looking shoe that had obviously seen better days. Farren put her fingers to it reluctantly; she squeezed her eyes shut.

Fred noticed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t like portkeys,” muttered Farren, her mouth a tight line.

Fred quirked an eyebrow, and before Farren had a chance to respond, they were pulled away. In seconds, Farren was lying on the ground, along with nearly everyone else. However, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric came floating down and landed gently.

The group quickly got to their feet as a harried looking wizard hastened them out of the way.

“We’ve got another group coming in soon, best move before you get landed on,” he said while Farren was pulled to her feet by George, her eyes still shut.

“Alright?” asked Carina.

Farren made a noncommittal noise but opened her eyes as they began walking towards their campsite. Even though the world was still spinning, she wouldn’t have missed that sight for anything.

The grounds were awash in color and sound. People could be heard arguing over tent space or placing bets. Multicolored tents adorned every free space. There were red and green banners everywhere they looked. And the people. Farren had never seen so many witches and wizards gathered in one place at one time. She heard English, but many other languages as well. And there were so many different styles of dress, though not all were appropriate. They passed another Ministry of Magic official arguing with a wizard that appeared to be wearing a nightgown, attempting to convince him to put on come trousers.

When they arrived at their space, Mr. Weasley pulled out a mass of canvas and metal rods. He appeared to have some difficulty understanding the directions, so Harry, Hermione, and Farren were called over. Between the three of them, they managed to work it out. Farren could see Harry and Hermione wondering how they all were going to fit in the small looking tent. She smiled at their awed faces when they walked in.

Mr. Weasley began delegating tasks, but before he could assign one to them, Fred and George dragged Carina and Farren out of the tent.

“Oi, what on earth was so urgent that you pulled me out of the tent by my hair?” asked Farren, massaging her scalp.

“Fred and I have an appointment.”

Carina snorted. “Is that so? With whom?”

“We can’t tell you,” said Fred.

“Then what did you drag us out here for?”

“We need your opinion.”

Farren raised her eyebrows and glanced and George. “On what?”

“Who you think is going to win the Cup.”

“Ireland, obviously,” replied Carina.

Farren agreed with a nod. “Luck of the Irish, love. And their seeker is phenomenal.”

“Just because you’ve got a bit of a crush on the Irish seeker does not mean they’ll win.”

“You’ve got a crush on Lynch?” asked Fred, looking rather alarmed.

“Yes, he’s gorgeous, but the Irish are going to win because they’re the better team.”

“Gorgeous?” asked Fred, but Farren ignored him. Carina gave him a sympathetic look.

“Come on, Fred, we’ve got to meet our contact,” said George, dragging his brother away before he could make a fool of himself.

Carina did the same with Farren. “Come on, let’s go explore. Maybe some of the players are out giving autographs.”



They finally met up again back at the tent a little bit later. Farren and Carina didn’t mention meeting up with Oliver—well Farren didn’t mention it but Carina would certainly tell George later—and Fred and George didn’t elaborate on their activities. Hermione had obviously taken pity on Mr. Weasley and shown him how to use matches; the stove had been lit and lunch was nearly ready.

As they were sitting down to eat, Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived. There was much shuffling of seats and they struggled to make room for twelve around a table built for eight. Somehow, Farren ended up squashed next to Fred once again. She was beginning to think it wasn’t a coincidence.

They ate lunch quickly and soon left to go to their seats. Along the way, Farren bought an Ireland hat, and Omnioculars for Fred, George, Carina and herself. There were a few half-hearted protests, but Farren insisted.

Eventually they made their way through the crowd of vendors and got to their seats. They were in a box with a great view of the field. Unfortunately, the view inside the box was not as great. Seated directly in front of them was a blond-headed rat.

“It appears our seats are not as good as we were led to believe, Draco. They let all of the riff-raff in these days,” said Lucius Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” acknowledged Mr. Weasley with a strained calm. Fred and George were not disguising their disgust as well. Farren had to clamp her hand over Fred’s arm on their shared armrest to keep him from lunging over the row of seats. She did the same with Carina.

“Smarmy little git,” she heard George murmur on the other side of Carina.

Farren was inclined to agree, and would not have hesitated to beat the smug grin of the little prat’s face herself had there not been the chance they would get kicked out of the stands. That would be what they wanted. And Farren wanted to see the game as well.

Luckily, Farren didn’t have to control her friends for long. Minutes later, pre-game ceremonies began.