Forgotten *A George Weasley Love Story*

Chapter 4

The world was spinning around me. Faster and faster. But there was a constant presence of the boys next to me and my finger on the boot. I don't know how long we were spinning. It felt like a minute and an hour all at once. Hearing some words over the wind, I whipped my head up. Mr. Weasley was grinning like mad. "Let go kids!" He must have repeated himself. Let go. He wanted us to let go.

"What?!" Hermione gasped somewhere to my right.

"Let go!" Mr. Weasley repeated himself. I took a deep breath, locking eyes with my brother. I trusted Arthur Weasley so much. He would never lead us in the wrong direction, and he would never let his children get hurt. So I did what he said. I took my finger off the boot. A scream was ripped from my lungs as I fell down to the Earth below.

It took a shorter time to fall than I thought, but I ended up landing on something softer than the ground, which I was betting on. "Blimey, Alex." George groaned. I opened my eyes, meeting George's brown ones underneath me.

"Merlin. I'm sorry, George." I rolled off of him. My cheeks were burning a bright pink. I could just feel it.

I reached down a hand for him to grab. He took it, mostly pulling himself up with no real help from me. I have small arms. He's tall. "No big deal." He chuckled. "I'm just glad I could break your fall." I shoved him back down, smiling wide just as Mr. Weasley, Amos, and Cedric joined us. They didn't crash on the ground, instead practically walking on air. Show offs.

"I'll bet that cleared your sinuses, eh?" Mr. Weasley laughed. We could call it that, sure. The adults started jogging up a small hill with a sense of excitement I see in little kids. It was refreshing. I pulled at George's arm, getting him to hurry to meet his dad. 

Once we reached the crest, the sight was beautiful. Tents stretched as far as the eye could see. Red and green to represent the teams. People flying on brooms. Magic at every turn. Events like these reminded me how much I love magic. What a type of community that it really is. I've seen pride, of course. English Football. But this was something far more than that. "Well, kids, welcome to the Quidditch World Cup!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed. I smiled. This was going to be so much fun.

Mr. Weasley started walking through all the tents, and we all followed. George slipped his hand into mine, and I was definitely not having an internal freak out. I'm sure he just wanted me to stay close so I wouldn't get lost. Mr. Weasley hollered something about staying together. I looked back, and Hermione and Ginny were kind of lagging behind. Harry was right behind me though, so I knew where he was. Good. Someone whizzed past us on a broom, causing us all to duck.
"Blimey!" I screeched. It took a second for us to catch our breath before we were moving again. 

It wasn't long before we stopped. Mr. Weasley and Amos shook hands, promising to see each other at the match. We all put our heads back to their original places and continued on our way.
The Weasleys, the Potters, and Hermione all trailed in a line towards our tent. "Home sweet home," Mr. Weasley said to us. He held a flap open to a ghastly looking tent. It looked too small to fit eight of us, but I keep underestimating magic. Fred and George exchanged a look with each other and pushed me inside after their father. The inside of the tent was huge! A kitchen, living room, dining room, bedrooms for us. It was spectacular, draped in bright colors. I dropped my bag on the couch, following Fred and George to the dining room table. I couldn't stop the amazement from showing on my face. Even with the chaos around me. "Ron, get out of the kitchen. We're all hungry," Mr. Weasley scolded. Fred and George propped up their feet on the table.

"Yeah, get out of the kitchen, Ron!" The twins repeated.

"Feet off the table!"

"Feet off the table!" They repeated. Fred and George put up their feet again, and I pushed them off. I moved away from the table, meeting my brother. He was still standing at the flap of the tent.

"What do you think, Harry?" I asked. He grinned.

"I love magic!" Harry breathed.

"Me too," I whispered. 

Mr. Weasley waved us all over. "Listen, you all have about half an hour to get ready, alright?" But it was hard to concentrate as the excitement fully set in. He sent us along. I grabbed my bag, moving to the bedroom with three beds for Hermione, Ginny, and me. Together, we started getting dressed in our Irish attire, laughing and having fun just painting each other's faces. "Come on, girls! We're off." 

I quickly grabbed my flag and followed the line of boys walking out. The grounds were still buzzing with activity, but it had definitely died down as throngs of people started for the pitch. We walked for a long time to the pitch and again up the stadium. Stair after stair. I contemplated asking one of the twins to carry me, but thought better of it. They were probably tired too. Then Ron started complaining... Well, I knew that was coming. "Blimey Dad! How far up are we?" he gasped. I looked down and saw hundreds of people below us. What a fantastic view already.

I glanced down to the next flight of steps and heard a voice that I hated with a passion "Well, I'll put it this was. If it rains, you'll be the first to know," Lucius Malfoy said, looking at Ron. Beside him stood his little weasel of a son, Draco Malfoy. I rolled my eyes as the brat himself began to speak.

"Father and I are in the Minister's box. By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself," Draco boasted to us. Listen. The Minister isn't all he's cracked up to be. I would know. Harry and I met him after we blew up our aunt and sent her flying into the sky last year. Yeah, long story. But deserved.

Ignoring the pair of blondes, we all started walking again. Lucius hit Draco in the stomach with his cane, and I winced. I know what it's like to get hit sometimes. It wasn't something I wished on any kid, even Draco. "Don't boast, Draco. There is no need with these people," Lucius scolded his son. Harry grabbed Hermione and I lightly and tried turning us around, but Lucius stopped him with his cane. "Do enjoy yourself, won't you? While you can," His eyes drifted from Harry, to myself, and then to the Weasleys. He let go of Harry's sweatshirt, and we could finally continue upwards.

Three sets of stairs later, we arrived. "Come on up. Take your seats. I told you these seats would be worth waiting for," Mr. Weasley yelled over the cheering of the crowd. George, Fred, and I were all standing together and cheering our hearts out. We leaned down a bit. A rushing wind came past our heads. The wind that came from broomsticks.

"It's the Irish,"

"There's Troy!"

"And Mullet!"

"And Moran!" Fred, George, and I said one after the other.

The team flew into the sky and created a little leprechaun, made of green and white fireworks. He began to dance. The only thing that could be heard was the crowd chanting: Ireland! Ireland! All of the sudden, the leprechaun was destroyed by red lights and fireworks. "Here come the Bulgarians!" Fred hollered. The red cloaked Bulgarians zoomed right towards the Irish. They split apart. One Bulgarian decided to show off, flipping on his broomstick.

"Who's that?" Ginny called over the crowd. With her brother's obsession, I'm surprised she didn't know Viktor Krum when she saw him.

"That person right there, Ginny, is the best seeker in the world!" George told her. She looked at him approvingly. "Krum!" George, Fred, myself, and about three hundred other people screamed.

A booming voice filled the stadium. "Good evening!" Cornelius Fudge announced. "As Minister of Magic, it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the final of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup! Let the match begin!" he finished. The Minister flung out his wand and the game began...