"It's about time, Son!" Came Amos Diggory's excited voice from below.
Jessica and her twin, Cedric, peered out of the tree to see who their father was greeting. The Weasley's were just arriving at the meeting place. Mr. Weasley was just introducing their father to his children and Harry Potter.
Cedric dropped out of the tree with his sister right behind him.
"Ah, and this strapping young lad must be Cedric," Mr. Weasley greeted, taking Cedric's hand.
"Yes, sir," Cedric replied with a small smile.
Jessica waited for her father to introduce her or something, but he didn't nor did anyone notice her.
"Come on, this way!" Mr. Weasley called, starting off up the hill.
Cedric appeared at Jessica's side. "I hope you're not sore that Father didn't introduce you," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her thin shoulders.
She shrugged, "I'm used to him ignoring me any more."
Cedric hugged his sister. "You're a great sport," he replied, laughing gently. She wrapped her arm about his waist as they finished trudging up the hill.
"Grab hold everyone!" Mr. Weasley called out. Everyone crowded around the boot, elbowing Jessica out of the way.
"On three!" Her father called out. "One, two...!"
Everyone but Jessica had managed to get at least a finger on the boot. Just before her father said three, Cedric realized Jessica couldn't reach. He reached out and grabbed her wrist just as the boot began to spin off. Cedric's fingers were slipping as they spun.
"Hold on tightly!" He shouted back to his sister.
Jessica tried to grip his fingers tighter, but she was being pulled backwards too hard. She screamed as she fell off into the spinning fog.
"Jess!" Cedric shouted as she disappeared from view.
A moment later Jessica hit the ground with a thud.
"Where the hell am I?" She muttered looking around. Forest surrounded her on all sides.
"Damn." Why was it always her that got lost in unfamiliar places? It seemed to happen with alarming frequency.
She pulled out her wand. "Point me." The wand spun for a moment and then pointed directly to her left.
She sighed; judging by where the Portkey had been and the World Cup was supposed to take place, the World Cup should have been slightly west of her. After a moment she started off in the direction she supposed the camps to be.
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Two hours later she could hear the shouts that signaled people. She hurried ahead and found herself at the edge of the Quidditch camp, but not the civilian camp. This was the players' camp. A low groan escaped her throat. She didn't want go around and risk getting lost again, but she couldn't go through the camp.
After a moment's hesitation, Jessica dove into the camp, looking for someone who could show her the way to the civilians' camp. As she wove in and out of the crowd she bumped into someone quite hard. The blow knocked her to the ground.
"I am so sorry, miss," a husky, accented voice apologized from above her. Jessica stared up to see a muscular young man about her age. He had closely cropped brown hair and a slight beard on his strong chin. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. They were a soft, deep brown that seemed to hold all the answers.
"Here." The young man held out his hand to her. "Let me help you."
Jessica grasped his hand and he lifted her easily to her feet.
"Hey! You! What are you doing here?" Came a shout from behind Jessica. The Bulgarian Manager was running towards her, his eyes blazing. The young man held up his hand and said something in Bulgarian to the man who shrugged and left.
"Why are you clear over here?" the Bulgarian player asked as he led her towards the civilians' camp, having guessed her destination.
"I lost my grip on a Portkey far too soon and had to find a way here," she admitted sheepishly.
The young man laughed, "That's happened to me several times as well." She laughed too.
"So, what's your name?" the young man asked Jessica.
"Oh, sorry," Jessica blushed. "My name's Jessica Diggory." She held out her hand.
The young man gripped it tightly. "Viktor Krum."
"Really?" Jessica looked him over carefully. She'd never seen any pictures of Viktor Krum so she couldn't really know if this was the real guy.
An amused grin split his serious face. "It's not everyday a girl disbelieves me when I tell her who I am. Usually the girl would be clamoring for an autograph or something."
"Well, I'm certainly not your average girl," Jessica told him.
"I can see that," he said softly.
The two of them started off towards the civilian camp, chatting about everything from school to Quidditch.
"Well, I should probably be getting back to my team mates." Viktor said looking uncomfortably about the camp.
"Probably. I'll see you tonight then," she agreed.
Viktor grinned, "Hopefully it will be holding the Quidditch World Cup."
Jessica gave her new friend the thumbs-up sign and a wave before running off to find her brother. She bumped right into a camp manager.
"Excuse me." She said politely, "But can you tell me where the Diggorys are located?"
The manager checked his map. "Site A7." He said after a moment.
Jessica thanked him and took off at a run through the tents. After a few seconds she managed to find the correct row and not long after did she find the tent. She unlocked the door and slipped inside to take a nap before the match.
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"Jess!" Cedric exclaimed, scooping up his sister.
Jessica was jerked into wakefulness.
"I thought we'd lost you for good! I've spent the last three hours scouring this place for you."
Jessica hugged her brother tightly. "I'm glad you care," she whispered.
Cedric pulled her out of the tent. "We've got to hurry! The match will be starting soon."
Jessica allowed herself to be pulled along to the stadium where Amos was waiting with the Weasleys.
"Hurry up! We'll miss the teams!" Fred called to them. They flashed their tickets at the gate keeper and hurried inside.
"Wow, how far up are we?" one of the boys asked.
"Well, let's put it this way. If it rains, you'll be the first to know," Lucius Malfoy sneered at them.
Jessica growled as Cedric grasped her wrist to keep her from cursing him into oblivion. He led her quickly up the stairs in hopes of avoiding a fight which he did, only by a slim margin.