A Magic Beyond All (A Fred Weasley Love Story)

Chapter 1

Lyla Diggory

Cedric and I sat perched in the tree, silently waiting for the right time to jump down.

“Ready?” Ced asked me, whispering so his voice blended in with the racket the birds were making. I nodded soundlessly and we leapt down from the thick branch we were sitting on. The girls shrieked as we dropped down and I grinned.

“This must me your children, yes,” the red headed man talking to my father asked. Dad nodded proudly. I held out my hand politely.

“Lyla Diggory,” I said in introduction.

“Pleased to meet you,” the man said, taking my extended hand.

“You too,” I smiled. Cedric introduced himself and we started off up the hill to the portkey. I walked next to Ced in the lead. Twins, my age they looked, with the same flaming red hair as their father walked directly behind us so I could hear their conversation.

“Bet you 5 galleons the Bulgarians win,” one said to the other.

“Deal,” the seconds one said, in a voice identical to the first.

“You’ll be bankrupt someday you two will,” A girls voice from behind them said.

“You wait Ginny,” the first one said, “You’ll be eating your words once we get the joke shop started.”

“You know mum’s never gonna let you,” Ginny retaliated.

“Who said we were going to ask her permission?” they replied in unison. Ginny sighed. I grinned at their squabbling.

“Hey dad where’re we going?” A voice far back asked.

“Haven’t the slightest,” the father answered, which made Cedric and me laugh.

“We’re almost there,” Cedric called back to the clan. A few minutes later we circled around an old boot that probably used to be in good shape, but now I wouldn’t wear in a million years.

“Why’re we all standing around this manky old boot?” Harry Potter asked. I had never met him, but I’d seen him around school and anyone growing up in the wizarding world would recognize him on sight.

“That’s not just a manky old boot mate,” one of the twins said, “That’s a portkey!”

Harry looked completely nonplussed, but followed our lead in finding a piece of leather to put a hand on.

“Ready?” my father asks, “1…2…3!”

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