The change in number twelve, Grimmauld Place was nothing short of miraculous. With the dark influence of the locket removed from the house and Kreacher's loyalty now firmly pledged to Ariana, the ancient house-elf underwent a startling transformation. His muttering ceased, replaced by a zealous, if still slightly creepy, dedication to cleanliness and order. He began to refer to Ariana as "The Wise Young Mistress" and followed her around with an almost dog-like devotion, constantly offering her cups of tea and freshly baked scones, which were surprisingly delicious.
Sirius, freed from the constant, resentful presence of the elf he'd always known, found himself in a cleaner, brighter, and significantly more pleasant home. He treated Ariana with a mixture of awe and familial affection, often just shaking his head in wonder at her ability to solve problems he'd struggled with his entire life.
It was during this period of domestic harmony that Sirius burst into the drawing-room one morning, waving a handful of tickets.
"I've got them!" he announced, his face alight with a boyish excitement. "Tickets for the Quidditch World Cup Final! Ireland versus Bulgaria! What do you say, Harry? Fancy a trip?"
Harry's eyes lit up. "The World Cup? Brilliant!"
"And you, of course," Sirius said, turning to Ariana. "You have to come. And bring your friends. All of them. My treat." His gaze softened. "It's the least I can do." He then mentioned that they would be meeting the Weasleys there, making it a grand reunion.
Ariana, for whom Quidditch was still a rather chaotic and illogical sport, recognized the invitation for what it was: a crucial team-building exercise. An opportunity to solidify the bonds of their alliance in a relaxed, celebratory environment. "We would be delighted to attend, Sirius," she accepted graciously. Of course she also knew the next event and its nexus location.
She sent owls to Hermione and Daphne. Hermione's reply was immediate and ecstatic. Daphne's was equally enthusiastic, though she informed them that her family already had their own tickets in a different section but that she and Tracey would be thrilled to meet them there.
And so, on a misty, pre-dawn morning in late August, Ariana, Harry, Sirius, and Remus (who had been staying at Grimmauld Place as well) Apparated to a quiet, windswept field near the Weasleys' home. A short walk brought them to the bottom of a steep incline known as Stoatshead Hill. Waiting at the top, silhouetted against the rising sun, were the Weasleys, their familiar red hair a beacon in the grey morning.
The reunion was a joyous, noisy affair. Mrs. Weasley hugged everyone, Mr. Weasley shook Sirius's hand with heartfelt warmth, and the Weasley twins immediately started plotting with Harry and Ron. Hermione was there, having arrived a few minutes earlier, her face bright with excitement.
Just as Mr. Weasley was explaining that their Portkey was an old, manky boot, two more figures appeared over the crest of the hill. One was a stout, ruddy-faced wizard with a proud, booming voice. The other was a tall, handsome boy with kind grey eyes and a quiet, unassuming confidence.
"Arthur!" the man boomed. "Good to see you!"
"Amos! And this must be Cedric!" Mr. Weasley replied cheerfully.
Amos Diggory was clearly thrilled to be sharing a Portkey with the famous Harry Potter. He began to boast loudly about how his son, Cedric, had once beaten Harry at Quidditch, a fact that made Cedric look deeply embarrassed.
It was then that Amos Diggory's gaze fell upon the two girls standing slightly apart from the Weasley chaos, next to Harry. He saw Hermione, her hair now a cascade of glossy curls, her new confidence shining, and then he saw Ariana, her serene beauty and powerful presence making her stand out even in the misty dawn light.
"Well, now!" Amos exclaimed, his eyes widening. "I know who you two are. My Cedric has told me all about you. The brilliant Granger girl and the Dumbledore prodigy! Causing quite a stir at Hogwarts, the pair of you. Curing curses, I hear! Astonishing!"
Cedric Diggory looked over at them, a polite and genuinely impressed smile on his handsome face. He had seen Ariana's duel and had heard the whispers about her incredible power. Now, seeing her up close, calm and poised on a windswept hill at dawn, he found the stories easy to believe. He gave them a friendly, respectful nod.
"It's an honour to meet you both properly," Cedric said, his voice warm and sincere, pointedly ignoring his father's loud boasting.
Hermione blushed, unaccustomed to such direct, positive attention from an older, popular boy. Ariana simply inclined her head in a gesture of cool, polite acknowledgement.
"Time to go!" Mr. Weasley announced, pointing at the decrepit boot. "Everyone get a hand on it!"
They all crowded around, each placing a finger on the worn leather.
"Three…" Mr. Weasley counted. "Two… one…"
The world dissolved in the familiar, sickening lurch of a Portkey. They were flung through a whirlwind of colour and sound, landing moments later in a heap on a misty, empty moor. In the distance, they could see the faint outline of hundreds of tents and the colourful flags of the campsite.
As they picked themselves up, brushing the dew from their clothes, they were at the heart of the wizarding world's greatest sporting event. The air was already alive with the sounds of different languages, the smells of strange foods cooking over magical fires, and the palpable, crackling energy of thousands of witches and wizards gathered together in shared excitement.
Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder, his face alight with a joy he hadn't felt in thirteen years. Remus looked on with a quiet, contented smile. Ron and the twins were already arguing about whether Krum or Lynch would catch the Snitch. And standing together, a small, unshakable island of calm in the rising tide of cheerful chaos, were Ariana and Hermione, ready to observe the spectacle. The game was about to begin, both on and off the pitch.