Beginners: book 1, Goblet of Fire

Home

My eyes open to a canvas roof, it takes a moment for me to remember why I'm in a tent, The Quidditch World cup, Death Eaters, the Dark Mark, it all comes rushing back, my ankle. When I stir, it wakes dad, who's sleeping next to my cot.

"Hey, take it slow." He says, getting up, "you had a pretty nasty break."

"What happened?"

"They still don't know who cast it, but we're heading home, this isn't my field, I sent a report to the MACUSA. We're heading home, but not until you feel better."

"I feel fine, lets go now."

"No, it's barely light out, I'll get packing, but you need to rest."

"Dad I-"

"This is not a discussion," he says, getting up and starting a fire.

I slowly sit up and move the blankets from my leg. Revealing a swollen bruised ankle. But I can move it, which is a great improvement. It takes dad an hour to pack, then another thirty minutes to get back to the gates, but we do eventually reach them and apparate back home. He sends me straight to bed, even though I'm feeling much better, but lets Ben visit me.

"What happened?" He says, sitting on the end of my bed.

"Tripped, it should be better by morning, dad's just being extra careful."

There's an awkward pause. "I guess you'll be leaving soon."

"Yeah, in a couple of weeks," he stares out my window, "I'll write, but you have to write back."

He smiles, "yeah but to where?"

"Just give them to dad, he'll mail them." He holds my gaze. "We shouldn't," I whisper, "dad's downstairs."

"Right," but he doesn't look away. We've kept this thing up since I first got here, friends with benefits. He's the only friend I have, and why not have some fun. We aren't getting too attached, I hope, we both know I'm leaving in less than a month. "I should get to supper," he breaks eye contact and gets up, moving towards the door, "maybe we can meet up once your ankle is better."

"I'd like that," I say, smiling.

As expected, I'm back on my feet the next morning. I head to Bens, we bike for hours, stopping to talk and kiss. It's true summer bliss. But, I have to finish studying, I spend the week flipping through books making sure I know every spell, potion, charm, and then some. My off hours I spend somewhere in the countryside, every day I love this place more and dread the day when I have to leave. And yet, it does.

The last day of August fills me with nerves, but also excitement. I finish packing my things, cloaks, books, quills. Again, leaving so soon.

"All packed?" Dad says as I come down the stairs.

"Yep," I sit at the table, where dinner's laid out.

"I know you're nervous, sweetheart, but I just know everything is going to work out. I loved Hogwarts, and it's a new start for you."

"I know, dad." We eat in silence, "I was wondering if I could go see Ben tonight."

"We've barely seen each other all week, can't we spend one night together." This was true, dad had been called into work late every day.

"Just for an hour? I want to say goodbye."

"Alright, just don't be out too late, we should leave early tomorrow."

"Thanks," I finish my final meal at home, quickly do the dishes and head to meet Ben. He's waiting in our usual spot, under a willow tree. We don't do much talking.

I head home to watch the stars from my window, this is a good thing, this is a good thing, I keep repeating in my head. But the tears come and go, lulling me to sleep.

The morning is a blur of last-minute packs and rushing to get out on time. I shove a sandwich in my mouth right before dad grabs my hand to apparate, making me want to puke it back up even more once we landed in an alley. He helps me carry it to the station and grabs a cart to put it on, but all I can focus on is the bowling ball sitting in my stomach that is switching from being very hot, to very cold. I follow dad through the station in a daze that I'm shaken out of when he tells me we have to walk through a barrier.

"We what?"

"Walk straight through there," he says, pointing at a very solid metal grate. "Here, I'll push with you." He grabs the handle of my cart and begins to briskly walk towards the barrier, all I can do is follow suit. Right as we should be crashing, however, we walk straight through and onto another platform. A scarlet steam engine sits on the track, and the platform is crowded with wizarding families. The steam from the engine conceals them slightly, making everything feel like a dream.

"Let's take this to the baggage car," he says, I'm glad he knows everything because my brain is working at about quarter speed now. We hand my trunk off to a man, who gives me a strange look. I guess they aren't used to see a new face my age, which just makes me feel even worse.

Through the mist, dad spots someone and starts towards a group of people clustered together. "Mr. Weasley," he calls, and a red-headed wizard turns around, Ron's father, "Phineas Whitnell, I'm afraid we didn't get a real introduction at the World Cup."

He extends his hand, which floats for a moment before a dawn of realization spreads over Mr. Weasley's face. "Ah, yes! I remember. Weren't we at school at the same time? And please, call me Arthur, this is my wife, Molly. You've met Ron, Harry, Hermione, this is Ginny," who's another redhead, looks much like the rest of her family, rather pretty, "and somewhere are the twins, probably up to no good, George and Fred. This must be your daughter," He stammers, trying to remember my name,

"Elizabeth, sir."

"Ah, Elizabeth, how's your leg?"

"Good as new, thanks to you," I smile, suddenly very aware of the cold sweat that I've broken into.

"You didn't mention that she was a student," he says, turning to Ron, who looks just as shocked to see me here.

"Oh, this is her first year, transfer, good man Dumbledore." My father says.

"That we can agree on," Mr. Weasley says just as a whistle sounds over the platform. "That's the whistle, onto the train." He starts herding the group towards the door to a car.

"Fred and George better be on that train or so help me," I hear Mrs. Weasley say.

Dad places his hands on my shoulders, looking up at me, "you've got this. I love you."

"I'll write to you at the end of the week. Oh and I told Ben he can give you letters to send to me."

"Yes you told me all of that yesterday," his eyes are kind.

"I love you," I choke out.

"I know," he gently pushes me towards the door, and with one last look over my shoulder, I step on.