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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 

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August 28th, 1994

Tomorrow is the Quidditch World Cup, and I'm so excited I feel like I might actually explode. Honestly, if spontaneous combustion is possible, that's where I'm headed. Lottie hasn't stopped owling me with her predictions for the match, which isn't helping my nerves. She's absolutely convinced Bulgaria will take the cup, but I've always had a soft spot for Ireland. I suppose we'll see soon enough.

The best part? Thanks to Mr. Weasley's kindness in inviting me and Ma along, I'll finally get to see Aidan Lynch fly in person. The way he moves on a broom—it's like poetry in motion. Watching him makes me dream about writing something equally graceful someday.

On a slightly unrelated note, I've been toying with the idea of talking to Dumbledore about starting a school newspaper. The rubbish Rita Skeeter writes for the Daily Prophet is borderline embarrassing, if not outright infuriating. I want to create something meaningful, something real. Not the sensationalized garbage she seems to pull straight out of her—

"Zelda!"

My quill froze mid-sentence, and I glanced toward the door, raising my voice. "Yes, Ma?"

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder until my mother, Charity, appeared in the doorway. "Are ye ready, love?"

I blinked. Diagon Alley—I'd completely forgotten we were supposed to go today to gather my school supplies. My eyes drifted toward the cluttered desk where the untouched list of required items mocked me silently.

Books, potion ingredients... and my uniform. A flush crept up my neck as I thought about how snug it had become after a summer of growth spurts and... other changes. There'd be no hiding how much I'd grown up now.

"Right," I said quickly, snapping back to the present and slamming my navy leather-bound journal shut.

Ma sighed softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. "I'll be downstairs," she said before disappearing back into the hallway.

I pushed myself out of the chair, grabbed my scuffed shoes, and slipped them on hastily. My hobo bag dangled by my bedside, so I swung it over my shoulder, glancing down at Helix, my Bombay cat. He was sprawled across the foot of my bed, his yellow-green eyes half-closed and blinking lazily at me.

"I'll be back, Helix," I murmured, crouching to press a quick kiss to the top of his head. He purred softly but didn't bother moving, his tail flicking lazily in acknowledgment.

Snatching the crumpled supply list from my desk, I made my way down the creaky staircase. Ma was already waiting by the fireplace, holding a jar of Floo Powder in her hands.

She gave me one of her faint, knowing smiles as she extended the jar. Taking a handful of the glittering powder, I let the grainy texture coat my palm like fine sand.

Stepping carefully into the soot-stained fireplace, I steadied myself. "Diagon Alley," I said firmly, tossing the powder at my feet.

Emerald flames roared to life, wrapping around me. The world spun violently, leaving me breathless as thick, acrid smoke filled my lungs and the Floo Network pulled me into its dizzying chaos.

✦

The warm, musty scent of aged parchment and freshly printed pages hit me as Ma and I stepped into the aisles of Flourish and Blotts. The faint buzz of chatter and the occasional thud of a book hitting the counter blended into the room, while golden sunlight streaked through the dust from the high windows.

Ma shifted her bag and handed me part of the supply list. "Here, love, ye take these. Let's split up and make this quicker."

I took the list, barely noticing the sharp edges of the hefty tomes I'd already piled into my arms. As I scanned the list, my eyes caught on one title that made me snort.

"Flesh-Eating Trees of the World." Of course.

Stuffing the list into the front pocket of my jeans, I shifted the books in my arms and started navigating the maze of bookshelves. My fingers trailed along the spines of the books as I read their titles. High above, a familiar silver-embossed title gleamed from its perch.

Stretching onto my tiptoes, I reached for it, my fingers barely grazing the spine. Just as I was about to give up, a voice broke through.

"Need a hand, oh vertically challenged one?"

I spun around, nearly toppling the books in my arms, to see Fred Weasley standing there, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, with George at his side.

I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my face. "I should've known ye two would be lurking about. What trouble are ye causing this time?"

Fred snorted, stepping forward and plucking the book from the shelf like it was nothing before holding it out to me. "Trouble? Us?"

"Never," the twins said in perfect unison, their identical smirks making me laugh.

George leaned against the shelf, pretending to think. "Well... except for that one time."

"And that other time," Fred added.

"And maybe last week," George finished.

I shook my head, adding the book to my growing collection. "An' every day since your conception."

Before they could retort, Ma appeared at the end of the aisle, her arms full of books. "Zelda, have you—oh, hello boys."

"Professor Burbage," Fred greeted her warmly, his mischievous tone still intact.

Ma tilted her head, smiling at them. "And where's the rest of the clan, then?"

George shrugged. "Scattered across Diagon Alley, naturally."

"Well, Fred," Ma replied thoughtfully, "perhaps Zelda and I could walk with ye for a bit, pop in to say hello to Molly?"

"George, Ma," I corrected with a grin, pointing at the twin she'd mistaken. "That's Fred."

"Is it now?" Ma squinted, glancing between them. "Forgive me, George."

George waved it off with an easy laugh. "Even Mum doesn't get it right half the time."

Fred threw an arm around my shoulders, leaning in with an exaggerated air of conspiracy. "Except for Zelly here. Go on, Professor—how does she manage it?"

Rolling my eyes, I elbowed him lightly. "Because I've got eyes an' half a brain, that's how."

✦

I groaned as consciousness crept in, yanking me from a deep, dreamless sleep. I was sprawled out across my bed, one arm dangling off the side and one leg twisted awkwardly in my blanket. Helix was pressed against my side, his tiny body rising and falling with the rhythm of my breath.

And then—click.

The overhead bulb flared to life, flooding the room with harsh light. My face scrunched up in protest, a groan slipping from my lips.

"Come on, love, we're on the clock," Ma called from the doorway. She stood there, one hand on the light switch, waiting for the inevitable argument.

"Ugh, Ma!" I whined, burying my face in the pillow.

"I don't want to hear it," she said sharply, cutting through my protests. "Get up—we're leavin' in ten."

I groaned louder this time, as if that would change her mind. When it didn't, I squinted one eye open, glaring at the offending light. Slowly, I sat up, my joints cracking as I stretched and yawned.

The room felt cold, and when I glanced toward the window, the sky outside was still cloaked in deep blue, no hint of dawn in sight. My gaze shifted to the glowing red numbers of my clock.

"Four o'clock?" I cried, my voice pitching higher with disbelief. "Yer mad, woman!"

Helix stirred at my outburst, lifting his head with a sleepy blink before stretching luxuriously.

"Up and at 'em, Hel," I grumbled, clapping softly at him. "You heard her."

Helix, unimpressed, responded with a slow yawn before returning to licking his paw. Typical.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, muttering under my breath about cruel and unusual punishment as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. Moving quickly, I dressed in the dim light, tucking my wand securely into the waistband of my jeans. My trunk, stamped with Z.B., sat by the wall, waiting.

With a grunt, I grabbed the handle and dragged it toward the door. Its weight resisted me, scraping over the wooden floor as I made my way to the stairs. At the top, I paused, staring down the steep descent with growing dread.

"Here," Ma said, stepping past me. With a flick of her wand and a murmured "Locomotor," the trunk floated smoothly into the air, drifting down the stairs as if it weighed nothing. It settled at the bottom with a gentle thud.

"Thanks, Ma," I muttered, managing a small, tired smile as I trudged after it.

✦

The moment we apparated into the chaos of the Burrow, I was immediately enveloped in one of Mrs. Weasley's signature hugs. Her arms were warm and comforting, and I inhaled the familiar scents of cinnamon, soap, and freshly baked bread. If home had a smell, this was it.

"Charity mentioned you've been made Prefect—how wonderful!" she exclaimed, beaming as she held me at arm's length, her eyes sparkling with pride.

Before I could respond, Fred and George materialized out of nowhere, flanking their mother. Identical grins lit their faces, and I braced myself.

"Do tell, Miss Burbage," George began, clasping his hands together in mock solemnity. "Will you be keeping us in line this year?"

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't help the smirk tugging at my lips. "I'm not sure even Merlin himself could manage that."

"Good luck surviving a term with Percy," Fred added with a theatrical shudder.

"Poor Zelly," George said mournfully, reaching over to pat my shoulder as though I'd already been condemned.

Mrs. Weasley tutted, shaking her head. "Enough teasing, boys! Let her breathe, will you?" She turned to Ma, pulling her into a warm embrace. "So sorry to have missed you yesterday," 

Meanwhile, George nudged me toward the kitchen, his grin widening. "Come on, Zelly. Let's leave them to their chatter."

"Mum's made breakfast," Fred added, his eyes gleaming at the mention of food.

That was all the convincing I needed. I let them steer me into the kitchen, the irresistible aroma of sizzling bacon and fresh bread pulling me along.

"Zelda!" Ginny's voice rang out as she sprang up from her seat at the table. Around her, Harry, Hermione, Mr. Weasley, and a rather disheveled Ron sat in various stages of morning grogginess.

"When did she get here?" Ron asked, blinking at me as though I'd appeared out of thin air.

"Just now," I said with a grin, but before I could say anything else, Ginny launched herself at me, wrapping me in a warm hug.

"Hiya, Gin," I laughed, squeezing her back. "Look at you! Yer almost taller than I am."

"Everyone's taller than you are," Fred teased, poking me in the ribs with his finger.

"Oi!" I swatted at his hand, sticking my tongue out in mock indignation.

Fred smirked and flopped into a chair, snatching a piece of toast off Ron's plate with practiced ease. Ron grumbled but didn't bother to stop him.

Mr. Weasley glanced up from his copy of the Daily Prophet, his expression kind. "Good to see you made it safe."

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," I said, my gaze wandering to the spread of food on the table. My stomach growled, and I didn't bother hiding my eagerness.

✦

We followed Arthur in a loose, unhurried line, leaving the cozy warmth of the Burrow behind as we headed toward the dense forest near their home. Ma had stayed behind with Molly, so it was just me, the Weasley kids, Harry, and Hermione making the trek.

I walked between Fred and George, chatting idly with them as we picked our way through the undergrowth.

"Hey, Dad! Where are we going?" Ron called out ahead of us.

Arthur glanced back. "Haven't the foggiest! Keep up!"

We trudged along what felt like an endless path, the trees around us growing thicker and the air cooler as we delved deeper into the woods. The group's chatter eventually quieted, replaced by the sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves beneath our feet. Just when I was beginning to wonder if we were hopelessly lost, a figure emerged from the trees ahead.

"Arthur! About time, son!" the man called, his broad smile warm and welcoming as he walked toward us.

"Sorry, Amos. Some of us had a bit of a sleepy start," Arthur replied, glancing back at Ron and Harry. Right on cue, Ron let out a loud yawn, and I couldn't help but smirk.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works with me at the Ministry," Arthur continued, gesturing toward the man.

Diggory? Before I could dwell on it, Cedric suddenly dropped down from a tree branch with a familiar grin. My heart leapt at the sight of him, and I couldn't hold back my excitement.

"And this strapping young lad must be Cedric, am I right?" Arthur asked as he extended a hand.

"Yes, sir," Cedric replied with his usual polite nod, but before any more formalities could be exchanged, I dashed forward, throwing myself into his arms.

"I didna know ye were comin'!" I exclaimed, grinning so wide my cheeks hurt.

Cedric caught me with ease, lifting me off the ground as though I weighed nothing. "I would've written, but Father was quite tight-lipped about it," he explained, setting me down gently before we fell into step together.

Amos lingered behind to gush over Harry, while the rest of us kept walking. The forest eventually thinned, giving way to a sprawling meadow. The tall grass swayed in the breeze, and the air felt fresher and lighter without the dense canopy overhead.

Amos led us to a small hill, where something odd caught my eye—an old, battered boot sitting awkwardly in the middle of the grass, looking like it had been abandoned ages ago.

We all gathered around it, curious. Harry and I lagged slightly behind with the twins.

"Why are they all standing around that manky old boot?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed.

"That isn't just any old manky boot, mate," Fred stated.

"It's a portkey," George added, finishing his twin's sentence.

The twins strode past us, plopping down in the grass around the boot. They reached out and placed their hands on its worn surface like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Time to go!" Arthur called to the rest of us.

"What's a 'portkey'?" Harry asked, still baffled.

"It's a form o' magical transportation," I explained, dropping to my knees in the grass. I checked my bag to make sure it was fastened tight before reaching for the boot. As my fingers brushed its rough leather surface, Fred's hand accidentally grazed mine. I glanced at him briefly, but Amos' voice broke the moment.

"After three. One... Two..."

Arthur suddenly noticed Harry hadn't grabbed the boot. "Harry!" he shouted.

Harry panicked, rushing over and slapping his hand on the boot just as Arthur called out, "Three!"

The world disappeared in a blur. I was yanked off the ground, spinning wildly through the air as wind whipped my face and tangled my hair. My stomach lurched, but I couldn't help laughing, my excitement mingling with Harry's startled yell.

The world around me became a tunnel of swirling light and color, and just when I thought I might lose my grip, Arthur's voice cut through the chaos.

"Let go, kids!" he yelled.

"What?!" Hermione shrieked, clinging tightly to the boot.

"Let! Go!"

I obeyed, letting my fingers slip from the boot's surface. The sensation of falling was sharp and sudden, and then—

Thud.

I landed flat on my back in the grass, the breath knocked out of me. The cool, damp blades tickled my arms as I gasped for air.

"Ugh..." I groaned, blinking up at the sky, which had mercifully stopped spinning.

I sat up slowly, the dizziness still clinging to me as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. The scent of grass and damp earth filled my nose, grounding me as the brilliant blue sky overhead came into focus. 

Fred and George were already on their feet, dusting themselves off. They noticed me struggling and immediately moved to my side, each grabbing one of my arms.

"Thanks," I muttered, still trying to catch my breath. My head swam, and that lingering vertigo refused to leave, but their playful smiles were infectious. I managed a small one of my own as they helped me to my feet.

The moment I steadied myself, I turned to take in the scene around us. The field stretched endlessly in every direction, the grass a lush green that seemed to shimmer under the sun. In the distance, I spotted the colorful peaks of tents bustling with activity, their vibrant fabrics fluttering in the breeze.

Once everyone had gathered their bearings, Arthur beckoned us forward, leading us up a small hill. As we crested the rise, my breath caught. Below us lay a sprawling sea of tents, their colors dazzling against the natural backdrop. People were everywhere—laughing, chatting, and weaving through the festivities. Fiddle music floated on the air as broomsticks zoomed by in flashes of light and color.

A slow smile spread across my face, and I couldn't help but glance up to take it all in. Irish flags waved proudly, their greens and golds standing out against the bright sky. The mingling sounds of magic, laughter, and music made my chest swell with excitement.

"Well, kids, welcome to the Quidditch World Cup!" Arthur announced, his voice filled with pride.

Excitement bubbled in me as we plunged into the bustling crowd. I fell in step with Hermione, exchanging a look of shared awe as we navigated the vibrant chaos. Everywhere I looked, there was something to see—a man juggling glowing balls that seemed to dance on their own, tents being levitated into perfect positions with casual flicks of wands, and children racing around with toy broomsticks, their laughter ringing out like bells.

The smell of food was impossible to ignore. My stomach rumbled as the aroma of Irish stews, freshly baked bread, and sugary treats swirled around us. I made a mental note to grab something later, though it was hard to focus on anything with so much happening at once.

Suddenly, the sound of rushing air caught my attention. I barely had time to react before a broom rider came hurtling toward us, flying dangerously close to the ground. My heart leapt as the broomstick skimmed just above our heads, and we all instinctively ducked.

"Bloody brilliant," Fred muttered as the rider swooped back into the air, clearly amused by our near-miss.

After a while, Amos and Cedric split from the group, heading off to find their tent. I waved goodbye, promising Cedric we'd catch up later. Fred and George called out their own teasing farewells before we continued on, following Arthur through the ever-thickening crowd.

Finally, we arrived at what could only be described as the most underwhelming tent in the entire field. It was small, plain, and utterly unassuming, nestled slightly off to the side.

"Home sweet home," Arthur announced proudly, holding open the flap and gesturing for us to step inside.

Fred and George pushed through first, their expressions neutral. I followed right behind them, bracing myself for cramped quarters.

The sight that greeted me stopped me in my tracks.

The tent was enormous—far bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Cozy chairs and tables were scattered around a sprawling living space, with individual rooms tucked away toward the back. Everything had a warm, lived-in feel, from the knitted throws on the chairs to the soft glow of magical lanterns hanging overhead.

It reminded me of an old Muggle show my mother and I used to watch when I was little, where things were always bigger on the inside. I chuckled softly at the memory, letting the wonder of the moment settle over me.

✦