CHAPTER TWO:

Third Person P.O.V.:

Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets when Charlie entered the room. Beside Arthur sat an abundance of red-headed boys and Harry Potter.

"Oi, Charlie!" Fred called as the brown eyed boy sat down. "Who do you think is gonna win the World Cup; Ireland or Bulgaria?"

Before the boy had joined them, Ron, Harry, Fred, and George were all talking spiritedly about the World Cup, and which team they'd thought would become world champions.

"It's got to be Ireland," said Charlie thickly, through a mouthful of food. "They flattened Peru in the semifinals."

"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," challenged George with an amused brow raised.

"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven," said Charlie shortly. "I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was."

"What happened?" said Harry eagerly, regretting more than ever his isolation from the wizarding world when he was stuck on Privet Drive.

"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten," said Charlie gloomily. "Shocking performance. Then, Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg."

Ron laughed at a shocked Harry, "It was brutal."

"That's an understatement."

A voice said from behind them.

As Charlie turned, he saw that Ginny and Hermione had now joined them in the kitchen. The boy looked down slightly, unwilling to face her after what happened.

Upon Hermione's arrival, Mr. Weasley beamed and stood up. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

"What d'you think?" he asked her anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito — do I look like a Muggle, Hermione?"

"Of course," said Hermione, smiling, "very good."

The two young witches joined the group of boys at the table. Charlie and Hermione shared nervous glances across the table to which Mrs. Weasley noticed and smirked softly — little did she know that things weren't the greatest between the two of them.

"This game better be worth it. I mean, why do we have to be up so early?" Ron said, rubbing her eyes and yawning loudly; he was still clearly recovering from his wake up call.

"We've got a bit of a walk," said Mr. Weasley.

"Walk?" said Harry. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"

"No, no, that's miles away," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup, it's important we abide by the rules. Nonetheless children! Finish up your breakfast, get ready, and meet me at the front door within the hour!"

With that, Arthur got up from the table happily, strode over to give his wife a kiss on the cheek, and then left the room to go and pack a few things. The children broke out in cheerful conversations as Mrs. Weasley watched with a smile.

After breakfast, Charlie had quickly cleaned up after himself before retreating back to Ron's room to get dressed. The brown eyed boy quickly threw on a pair of black fitted sweatpants, a basic white t-shirt, and a pair of red converse joggers.

As he descended the stairs once again, he spotted Ginny and Hermione engaging in a conversation in the living room, and much to Charlie's inconvenience, he didn't have an escape plan this time. When the two girls turned towards him, he instantly locked eyes with Hermione who stared at him with an unreadable expression.

Things were different now, unfortunately, between them, more than ever before. They somehow had seemed to be backtracking in their relationship after jumping from friendship to romance so quickly. Now, they were back to square one it seemed. They had yet to speak since their conversation earlier, but that was kind of a relief for the boy — he didn't know what to say to her anymore.

As if he could sense the tension, Arthur Weasley had come strolling into the living room.

"Charlie, my boy." he beamed as he put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Mind if I have a word?"

The brown eyed boy took his eyes off of Hermione for the first time since descending the stairs and turned to look at Arthur. "Uh, yeah. Of course."

Mr. Weasley had guided Charlie out to the front porch while they waited for everyone else. When they stopped walking, the young boy looked up at Arthur with a curious expression which urged him to speak.

"You know, I had a very interesting conversation with Molly earlier this morning before you kids came down for breakfast," Arthur said simply.

"Oh?" Charlie was puzzled. "What about?"

Arthur sighed slightly, "Charlie, you should know, that your fourth year at Hogwarts is quite a unique one indeed. It is the year that people grow closer, and maybe even start dating —"

Charlie's eyes had widened, "Mr. Weasley —"

"I can only assume that a good-looking young man, such as yourself may have many potential suitors —"

"Mr. Weasley —"

"But I know that — or more accurately — I can see that a certain girl has caught your eye." Arthur said, awkwardly. "That said, if you have any questions about — well uh, you know — don't hesitate to ask. I like to consider you and Harry as my own after all —"

"Mr. Weasley," Charlie interrupted, but laughed slightly. "I appreciate the concern, I do, but nothing's going on —"

"Oh? I was under the impression that you and Hermione —"

"No! Wait, what? No, no — I mean — it's not like that..."

"But Molly —" Arthur's eyes widened suddenly as he realized he said something he probably shouldn't have. "Oh dear... let's just forget this conversation, okay? If Molly knew that I almost told you that —"

Charlie's eyes perked up, "Almost told me what?"

Arthur panicked, "Nothing, of course! Ha! Silly me, quite the misunderstanding I've found myself in!"

As if God had answered Arthur's prayers for help, the front door flung open. Out stepped Mrs. Weasley followed by Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Fred, and George; everyone seemed to be ready to go.

Mrs. Weasley pulled each of the kids into a hug, but Charlie was still trying to decipher his awkward conversation with Mr. Weasley, which Arthur seemed to want to forget almost instantly. Ron had handed Charlie a small pack full of water and snacks for their journey, which the boy gladly took.

"Well, have a lovely time," said Mrs. Weasley, "and behave yourselves," she called after the twins' retreating backs, but they did not look back or answer.

"I'll send Bill, Jack, and Percy along around midday," Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley, as he, Harry, Charlie, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off across the dark yard after Fred and George.

It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to their right showed that daybreak was drawing closer.

Harry, Charlie, Hermione, and Ron had hung back slightly from the group, so that they were out of earshot to the rest of the Weasley's.

Ron looked carefully ahead of them to check that the rest of the family were all busy talking, then he said very quietly to Harry, "So — have you heard from Sirius lately?"

Hermione and Charlie looked around, listening closely; all of them were curious as to what happened to Sirius and Buckbeak.

"Yeah," said Harry softly, "twice. He sounds okay. I wrote to him yesterday. He might write back while I'm here."

"And how's Buckbeak?" Charlie whispered.

Harry laughed lightly, "He seems to be doing good, seems like him and Sirius have become good friends."

Charlie nodded contently, as they trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by their footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. Charlie's hands and feet were freezing. Mr. Weasley kept checking his watch.

They didn't have breath to spare for talking as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. Each breath Charlie took was sharp in his chest and his legs were starting to seize up when, at last, his feet found level ground.

"Whew," panted Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time — we've got ten minutes."

Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side. Charlie, suddenly forgetting that they weren't talking, had walked over to her when he noticed her out-of-breath state.

He pulled his backpack off, opened it and took out a water as he approached her.

"You okay?" he asked with an awkward smile as he handed her the water, "Here."

The bushy haired girl looked at him for a moment, almost in disbelief that he was talking to her, but eventually she took the water from the boy's hands.

However, as she did, she accidentally grazed his hand with hers which ultimately sent a bolt of an unusual, yet exciting feeling through the both of them.

Pulling her hand away instantly to not cause anymore awkward tension, Hermione opened the water bottle and took a swig while Charlie stood there awkwardly — what the hell was he supposed to say?

When she was done, she handed the bottle back to the brown eyed boy, "Thanks."

"No worries..." Charlie said quietly. "So uh, how are you feeling about the World Cup — I know Quidditch isn't exactly you're favourite thing..."

Hermione nodded nervously, "I've actually been doing some, um, research. Have been for a while actually..."

"Oh," Charlie said softly. "How come?"

"Well," Hermione blushed slightly. "I, uh, wanted to be able to talk to you — and, um, Harry and Ron too, of course, about it... that's all you guys have really talked about recently. Not to mention when you — and Harry joined the team, I knew I was going to be going to a lot of the games and —"

The boy smiled softly as he listened to her babble; she was clearly nervous. However, Charlie wasn't one to talk as Hermione learning about Quidditch just so she could talk with him about it, did make his heart beat a little faster — how he hated how the simplest things, when it came to Hermione, could effect him so greatly.

"Right," the boy said simply as she finished.

The two of them stood in silence for a moment, for what felt like the millionth time, before moving back to the group. Thankfully, Mr. Weasley's voice had cut the tension as soon as they approached.

"Now we just need the Portkey!" he said, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big... Come on..."

"What's a Portkey?" said Harry curiously to his friends as they walked.

"Enchanted objects," Hermione explained in a whisper. "They're created to bring anyone who touches them to a specific location."

Harry was still puzzled, "And what kind of objects can Portkeys be exactly?"

"Well, they can be anything," Charlie chimed in. "Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them... stuff they'll just think is litter...."

After that, they spread out, searching for the Portkey with the rest of the Weasley's. They had only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rent the still air.

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it."

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed.

Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr. Weasley. "And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Charlie recognized Cedric immediately — he was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts.

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all.

Ginny and Hermione has instantly looked at one another, thinking the exact same thing; Cedric was pretty cute. Charlie, of course, took notice of this and rolled his eyes slightly as a feeling of jealousy had washed over him — he didn't like this at all.

Everybody said hi back except for Charlie, obviously, and Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team, in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Amos asked.

"Not too bad," said Mr. Weasley. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still... not complaining... Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons — and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy..." Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Charlie, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads," said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron's — that's Charlie, also a friend of Ron's —and Harry, another friend —"

"Merlin's beard," said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. "Charlie? As in Charlie Hawthorne?"

"Yeah, unfortunately," mumbled Charlie, already dreading what was about to happen.

"I work for your father, you know?" Amos beamed. "Up at the Ministry for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!"

Charlie nodded gently, trying to be polite, but he had tensed slightly at the mention of his father; he hadn't seen him at all over the summer.

But Mr. Diggory didn't stop, "Quite the man, your father is! So much he's done for the Wizarding World, he has! However, his ideologies are a bit questionable —"

Charlie gritted his teeth, "Yeah, tell me about it."

Then Amos turned towards Harry, "And you must be Harry Potter! Oh Merlin! Your story is legend!"

"Er — yeah," said Harry.

Harry was used to people looking curiously at him when they met him, used to the way their eyes moved at once to the lightning scar on his forehead, but it always made him feel uncomfortable.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," said Amos. "Told us all about playing against you last year... I said to him, I said — Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will... You beat Harry Potter!"

Harry couldn't think of any reply to this, so he remained silent. Fred and George were both scowling again. Charlie and Ron had rolled their eyes. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," he muttered. "I told you... it was an accident..."

"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" roared Amos genially, slapping his son on his back. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman... but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

"Must be nearly time," said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," said Mr. Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off... We'd better get ready... You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do —"

With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the ten of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory.

They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. Nobody spoke. It suddenly occurred to Charlie how odd this would look if a Muggle were to walk up here now; ten people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting....

"Three..." muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, "two...one..."

It happened immediately. Charlie felt his feet leave the ground; he could feel Harry and Hermione on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then —

His feet slammed into the ground; Ron staggered into him and he fell over; the Portkey hit the ground near his head with a heavy thud.

Charlie looked up. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept; everybody else was on the ground.

They had arrived.

—————————————

Charlie disentangled himself from Ron before rising to his feet. In the near distance, thousands and thousands of tents were set up with crowds of wizards and witches surrounding them; each of them with dressed in Ireland or Bulgaria colours — yeah, this was definitely the right spot.

The ten of them walked a little further into the crowd, but as they reach a certain intersection, Mr. Weasley bid a farewell to Cedric and Amos before he lead Fred, George, Charlie, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny through the crowd. The walked a little further until they stopped at a small tent that was all set up; this was Arthur's reserved tent.

"We'll be a bit cramped," he called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

Charlie bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and had guessed that it was a magical tent, so he wasn't too surprised. Harry, on the other hand, had his jaw practically on the ground.

They had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

"I love magic," Harry said in awe.

Charlie and Ron shared a laugh at their friend before going to claim a room. The brown eyed boy placed his stuff down on a bed in a room with three beds. Then, after a quick tour of the girls' tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys', Harry, Charlie, Ron, and Hermione set off across the campsite to explore.

Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on Charlie how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; he had never really thought much about those in other countries.

"Er — is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Ron.

It wasn't just Ron's eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.

"Harry! Charlie! Ron! Hermione!"

It was Seamus Finnigan, their fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas. (A/N: lets be real, they're the real OTP of the HP series)

"Like the decorations?" said Seamus, grinning before looking at Charlie weirdly. "The Ministry's not too happy though..."

"What?" Charlie said confused. "Why wouldn't they want to show your colours in support of your team?"

"Exactly! Besides, you should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" Mrs. Finnigan added, eyeing Charlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione beadily.

When they had assured her that they were indeed supporting Ireland, they set off again, though, as Ron said, "Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot."

"I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" said Hermione.

"Let's go and have a look," said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents upfield, where the Bulgarian flag — white, green, and red — was fluttering in the breeze.

The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

"Krum!" said Ron excitedly.

"What?" said Hermione.

Charlie rolled his eyes, "Oh, please."

"Krum!" said Ron, ignoring the brown eyed boy. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"

"He looks really..." said Hermione, but she trailed off as Charlie had raised a brow in her direction — don't even think about it.

"Grumpy." Charlie finished, looking around at the many Krum's blinking and scowling at them.

"Really grumpy?" Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."

They walked around for a little longer, talking to people from Hogwarts who were there for the World Cup as well, such as Charlie and Harry's newly graduated Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood and his family — it was about an hour later when they finally got back to tent.

"You've been ages," said George when they approached the tent.

"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You've not got that fire started yet?"

"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred.

Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.

"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

"Here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.

At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley, and even Charlie, cordially as they passed.

Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harry's and Hermione's benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested. All while Charlie had actually gone to throw on a hoodie, so he could block his face from getting recognized further.

"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office... Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now... Hello, Arnie... Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know...and that's Bode and Croaker... they're Unspeakables..."

"They're what?"

"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to..." Charlie said as he sat back down in his seat from returning to get his hoodie.

At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Jack, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.

"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"

They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them. "Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was easily the only person who had approached them from the Ministry, who was worthy of Charlie's attention; he was actually a big fan — he did name his dog after him after all.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.

"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming... and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements... Not much for me to do!"

"Ah — yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred — no, George, sorry — that's Fred - Bill, Jack, Ron — my daughter, Ginny and Ron's friends, Charlie Hawthorne, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Charlie's name, especially from the confirmation of who he was from his last name.

"Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets —"

Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first — I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years — and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match."

"Oh... go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see... a Galleon on Ireland to win?"

"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well... any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like —"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins — but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

"Brilliant!" Ludo roared with laughter. "I'd pay five Galleons for the wand alone!"

"Boys," said Mr. Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting... That's all your savings... Your mother —"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance... I'll give you excellent odds on that one... We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we..."

"Round that up to a solid fifty Galleons," Charlie stepped forward, causing Ludo to smile widely. "Ireland wins, but Icky Vikky catches the Snitch."

Fred and George cheered as Charlie joined in on their bet. Harry laughed slightly as Ron didn't seem to appreciate Charlie's nickname for Viktor Krum.

"That's what I like to hear!" Ludo beamed. "Hawthorne Junior look at you go! Your father would be proud!"

Charlie remained silent for a moment until a voice coming from behind Ludo started to ring in his ears.

"What would I be proud about?"

Oh god — here we go.

Fenwick Hawthorne has made his appearance.

———————————————
Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

Don't know if I like this chapter if I'm being honest lmfao, such a filler chapter —

Anyways!

Hope you enjoyed regardless! I just want to get past the World Cup, and then everything will start falling into place.

Also, HAD to include "the talk" with Arthur ahahaha, that is 100% something I see him trying to do and absolutely failing at.

[insert begging for votes and comments]

xo, Selena