The 1994 Quidditch World Cup, the three-school competition between Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang—two major events in the wizarding world one after another. But beneath these grand occasions, hidden dangers lurked, along with Voldemort's threat.
The darkness seemed to be drawing closer and closer. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps right in front of them.
In the bedroom came the steady breathing of Hermione and Ginny, and Eda gradually drifted off to sleep as well.
But Eda felt as though she had only just fallen asleep when Mrs. Weasley appeared in the bedroom and woke Hermione and Ginny.
The reason she didn't wake Eda was because Eda had already taken her Apparition test in advance. Like Bill, Charlie, and Percy, she could get to the match by Apparating.
But could Eda really just keep sleeping? Of course not. How could Fred and George possibly let Eda continue sleeping while they themselves had to get up so early?
And so, an alarm clock was thrown into the bedroom. Its nonstop ringing chased away Eda's drowsiness, and she could only rub her eyes as she walked into the kitchen.
Outside the window, it was pitch dark. The kitchen lights were on, everyone was so sleepy they could barely keep their eyes open, Mrs. Weasley was stirring something in a large pot on the stove, and Mr. Weasley sat by the table checking a stack of large tickets made of parchment.
After breakfast—if eating before dawn could even count as breakfast—the group set off from the Burrow under the moonlight.
The air was cold, and the moon still hung high in the sky. Only a faint gray-green glow on the horizon to their right showed that dawn was gradually approaching.
Mr. Weasley walked in front, while Harry, like an endlessly curious child, kept asking questions, and Mr. Weasley patiently explained the organization of the World Cup.
Mr. Weasley turned back from time to time to make sure the sleepy children hadn't fallen behind. But his concern was a bit unnecessary—one blast of cold wind and everyone woke up immediately. Eda, trailing near the back, tightened her jacket around herself.
They trudged along the dark, damp path, passing through the village of Ottery St Catchpole. The surroundings were completely silent, and the only sound was their own footsteps.
When they began climbing Stoatshead Hill, the sky finally brightened a little. The previous pitch-black darkness gradually turned deep blue, enough that they wouldn't trip over rabbit holes underfoot.
Half a summer of exercise had indeed paid off—Eda was not the last one to reach the top of the hill.
The last one was Hermione, the girl clutching her clothes tightly with one hand.
"Well then," Mr. Weasley said, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his jersey, panting heavily. "Not bad—we're right on time, ten minutes left…"
Everyone scattered to look for the Portkey.
Seeing Eda standing on the hilltop with a thoroughly unwilling expression, Fred and George finally felt a little more balanced. They forgave Eda's "betrayal" just a tiny bit more.
After a while, the shout of a strange man rang out, calling for everyone to come over.
It was Amos Diggory, Cedric's father. Their family also lived near the village of Ottery St Catchpole.
Unlike Cedric, Mr. Diggory seemed to be quite a chatterbox. From the very first moment they met him, he kept talking nonstop.
"Arthur, are these all your children?"
Looking at the crowd of boys and girls standing there, Amos Diggory asked.
The Diggory family only had one child, Cedric. As for the Weasley family… well… they'd practically given birth to an entire Quidditch team.
"Oh no, only the redheads and the blonde one are." Mr. Weasley pointed out his children one by one, including Eda. "This is Hermione, Ron's friend; and this is Harry, also Ron's friend."
The moment he heard Harry's name, Mr. Diggory's eyes widened into circles, and he kept going on and on about how Cedric had beaten Harry in that match—the one where the Dementors had accidentally entered the pitch.
Unlike the talkative and proud Mr. Diggory, Cedric blushed bright red. Embarrassed, he shuffled over to stand near Eda and the twins, quietly apologizing to Harry.
In that match, both Cedric and Harry had been affected by the Dementors, but Cedric had been less affected, so he had always felt that his victory had been somewhat unfair.
The noble qualities of Hufflepuff, Cedric's noble qualities—this was precisely why Eda accepted Cedric and considered him a friend.
Eda whispered, "Ced, need help? I can make Mr. Diggory shut up right now. Safe and painless."
Cedric immediately shook his head. He absolutely did not believe in Eda's version of "safe and painless." She was a violent troublemaker!
Fortunately, Cedric's embarrassment didn't last long, because it was almost time for the Portkey.
The ten of them gathered around the old boot Mr. Diggory had found. Each person stretched out one finger, and when Mr. Weasley finished counting down, they all touched the filthy old boot.
Then, under the Portkey's power, they vanished from the spot, hurtling forward like a gust of wind.
No one knew how much time had passed before they finally landed on solid ground again, the firmness of the earth beneath their feet giving them a sense of security.
Only four people were still standing—Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, Eda, and Cedric. Everyone else had collapsed onto the ground.
Eda frowned as she fixed her hair again. Her long golden hair had been blown completely crooked by the wind, and Eda felt that she must look like some wild-haired lunatic right now.
She never should have gotten up. She never should have chosen the Portkey. Wasn't Apparition much better? Five-oh-seven in the morning—they had arrived here at five-oh-seven. How much sleep had she lost for this?!
After crossing a deserted stretch of marshland, they met a Muggle in front of a little stone cottage. This Muggle was the caretaker of the campsite, and he found the oddly dressed wizards very strange.
For the sake of keeping the match secret, wizards coming to watch the game were required to wear Muggle clothes, which resulted in the wizards on the grounds looking utterly bizarre.
Looking at this crowd of "freaks," Eda felt their brains must have been eaten by ghouls. Even if they couldn't tell Muggle clothes apart, surely they could at least tell men's clothes from women's? Surely they could tell skirts from trousers?
But this crowd of wizards proved to Eda that no, they absolutely could not.
Men wandering around in women's skirts was no longer even worth remarking on. Eda even saw one middle-aged man wearing black fishnet stockings, with thick leg hair poking out through them. It was an assault on the eyes!
At the edge of the campsite, near the woods, there was an open patch of ground with a small sign stuck into it. On the sign was written: Wezzly.
The name was misspelled, but this was indeed the campsite Mr. Weasley had reserved in advance, and Eda could finally stop suffering from the wizards' outrageous clothing.
At Mr. Weasley's insistence, they put up two crooked little two-person tents the Muggle way. Mr. Weasley had borrowed them from colleagues at the office.
From the outside, the tents looked tiny, but inside they were full of hidden space, complete with bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, and sitting room.
Fred and George immediately ran to the table and claimed two chairs, propping their feet up on it.
"Take your feet off the table," Mr. Weasley said. "We need some water…"
"Take your feet off the table."
In perfect unison, the twins repeated their father's words as they lowered their legs from the table. But the moment Mr. Weasley's attention shifted elsewhere, the two of them quietly propped their feet back up again.
The sun had just risen, and as the mist gradually dispersed, the campers around the grounds slowly woke up. More and more bizarrely dressed people appeared, and Eda was once again treated to an assault on the eyes.
One wizard, whose height and waistline were nearly identical, was actually wearing a woman's silk nightgown. And not just any nightgown—it looked so much like something Umbridge would wear that Eda almost thought she was seeing her.
Beside the tent, Mr. Weasley was completely absorbed in playing with a box of matches. He struck one alight, let out a startled yelp, and immediately threw it away, as if the sudden flame had frightened him. Before long, he had used up the entire box.
That morning, Eda also met the man Percy had been talking about endlessly—Mr. Crouch.
Barty Crouch looked to be around fifty. He wore an immaculate, sharply pressed suit, his hair combed perfectly into place, and his mustache looked as though it had been trimmed with a ruler.
One glance was enough to tell that he was not an easy man to get along with—a rigid, exacting sort of person.
And reality proved that first impression correct. Nearly every sentence he spoke seemed to emphasize laws and regulations. Perhaps that was precisely why he had been able to send his own son to Azkaban without hesitation.
Percy, eager to impress his superior, fussed over Mr. Crouch attentively, only for Barty Crouch to get his name wrong and call him Weatherby instead.
Fred and George nearly sprayed tea out of their mouths laughing. This was the kind of thing the twins would remember for the rest of Percy's life.
Percy's ears turned pink, and he pretended to focus on the teapot, losing all of his earlier enthusiasm.
After Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Sr. left, Fred finally couldn't hold it in any longer.
"Is something going on at Hogwarts, Dad?" he asked at once.
"You'll find out soon enough," Mr. Weasley said with a smile, maintaining his air of mystery.
"It's confidential," Percy said solemnly. "We'll know when the Ministry decides to make it public. Mr. Crouch is absolutely right not to leak classified information."
"Oh, shut up, Weatherby," Fred said.
The moment Weatherby came out again, everyone burst into laughter. Percy awkwardly retreated behind the teapot, and somehow that only made everyone laugh harder. Ginny was clutching her stomach from laughing so much.
Wiping tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes, Eda said, "If you two would be willing to talk to me nicely, I might tell you what that secret is."
The laughter stopped instantly.
But instead of looking at Eda, everyone stared directly at the twins. The meaning couldn't have been clearer.
"All right, we surrender," Fred said. "You win, honorable Head Girl."
Eda tilted her head and pointed at him.
"Watch your tone, Mr. Weasley. You're the one asking me for a favor."
Fred was immediately drowned in criticism from everyone else. Percy's constant secrecy had thoroughly whetted their curiosity.
"Well then, Eda, what's the secret?" George asked in an exaggeratedly gentle voice.
Though his tone was sweet, the threat behind it was impossible to miss—if Eda couldn't produce the goods, the twins would definitely make her regret it.
Eda copied Percy, clearing her throat pompously before announcing with mock seriousness:
"After term starts, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament…"
News of the inter-school competition instantly set everyone talking. One after another, they declared that they wanted to enter—even Ginny, the youngest, looked eager to try.
It was only when Mr. Weasley explained just how dangerous the tournament was that everyone's enthusiasm cooled somewhat.
Unlike the others, who were all itching to sign up, Harry remained very quiet.
He didn't want to enter.
He definitely didn't want to compete.
If it were up to Harry, he would have preferred to spend every school year peacefully and without incident.
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