Chapter 172
Amos Diggory spoke again, "Cedric has told me all about you, of course and about that Quidditch match you two played last year. I told him it would be something he could tell his grandchildren one day that he once defeated Harry Potter!"
Harry couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he stayed silent while Fred and George both stared at Cedric, who looked rather embarrassed. He mumbled, "Harry fell off his broom, Dad… I told you it was just an accident…"
But Amos went on, "Still, you didn't fall, did you? Always the proper sportsman, Cedric! But the better flier always wins in the end. I'm sure Harry would say the same, wouldn't you? One of you stayed on his broom, the other didn't doesn't take a genius to figure out which one's the better flier, eh?"
Mr. Weasley quickly tried to change the subject. "It's nearly time. Are we expecting anyone else, Amos?"
Amos shook his head. "Don't think so it's just us here!"
"All right," said Mr. Weasley. "One minute to go best get ready."
Everyone gathered around the Portkey with some effort, and Mr. Weasley instructed, "All you need to do is touch the boot. That's it just one touch."
No one spoke. Harry couldn't help wondering what would happen if a Muggle wandered by at that moment nine people, two grown men among them, all crowded around an old boot in the middle of nowhere, waiting for something mysterious to happen.
Then Mr. Weasley looked at his watch and counted down, "Three… two… one…"
It happened instantly. Harry felt as though a hook had caught him behind the navel and yanked him upward his feet left the ground, and he could feel Ron and Hermione beside him as they all hurtled forward at dizzying speed. His finger was still pressed to the boot, which seemed to be dragging him through the air.
Then, suddenly, his feet hit solid ground, and he and Ron crashed to the earth, the boot landing nearby with a dull thud.
Harry looked around. Mr. Weasley, Amos, Cedric, and Mrs. Weasley were already on their feet, while the others were still sprawled on the ground. A voice called out, "Seven-oh-five, Stoatshead Hill Portkey arrival!"
Harry untangled himself from Ron's legs and stood up, realizing they were now in a wide, misty field near a marsh. The air was damp and cold… but what truly shocked everyone was the sight that followed
Albert Black suddenly appeared before them out of thin air, Apparating right into the clearing!
Albert didn't look back as he muttered to himself, "Phew, made it. Hope the Weasleys and their lot didn't see me Apparate…"
But before he could relax, he felt a cold hand grip his right shoulder. He froze and turned only to find Arthur Weasley staring at him in disbelief!
Arthur spoke, stunned: "How… how did you do that?"
Albert cursed inwardly. Damn it, what terrible timing! He hadn't wanted anyone to notice his arrival, especially not like this.
He scratched his head awkwardly and said with a sheepish grin, "Ha… well, that's something my father taught me! Anyway, forget about it where are we heading now?"
Arthur wasn't satisfied with that at all. Mrs. Weasley stepped forward, her tone stern. "That's illegal, dear! If the Ministry finds out you can Apparate without a license, you'll face serious punishment!"
Albert didn't seem to care in the slightest. After everything that had happened with the Ministry last year in the Forbidden Forest, he was certain their officials were far from intimidating in fact, he thought most of them were weak.
He turned his head and saw, standing just behind Hermione, two people he'd never met before. But he recognized their faces instantly he'd seen them many times in his previous life, in the Harry Potter films.
Arthur, realizing he wouldn't get a real explanation from Albert, decided to move on. He introduced him to Amos and Cedric Diggory.
"This young man here," said Arthur with pride, "is Albert Black son of my old friend Sirius Black."
Introductions were brief, and Albert soon joined Arthur to help find their campsite. But as they walked off, Cedric's eyes followed Albert, filled with quiet jealousy and frustration. His gaze seemed to say: How can someone younger than me already master Apparition when I can't?
The group pressed on. Ahead, about forty meters away, two tired-looking wizards stood waiting. One was holding an enormous golden watch, and the other had a folded piece of parchment and a quill. Both wore Muggle clothes the man with the watch in an old-fashioned suit, the other in a Scottish kilt and short cloak.
Mr. Weasley was the first to speak, handing the old boot back to the kilted man. "Morning, Basil!"
Harry noticed a large crate beside them filled with old Portkeys things like newspapers, empty soda cans, and a deflated football.
"Morning, Arthur," said Basil with a weary smile. "Day off, is it? We've been here all night. You'd best clear out soon big group coming in from the Black Forest at five-fifteen. I'll show you to your campsite."
He unfolded his parchment and pointed. "You're a quarter mile that way first field you reach. The manager there's a bloke named Mr. Roberts. The Diggorys are in the next field over, with a fellow named Mr. Payne in charge."
"Thanks, Basil," said Mr. Weasley gratefully. He motioned for everyone to follow.
They trudged through the thick mist, which gave the place an eerie, almost ominous feeling.
After about twenty minutes, they reached a small stone cottage beside a gate barely visible in the fog. Beyond it, Albert could make out hundreds no, thousands of tent shapes rising on a gentle slope that led to a vast field bordered by a dark forest.
They said their goodbyes to Amos and Cedric, then headed toward the door of the cottage.
To be continued…