Al had to smother a chuckle when she spit the speech right back at her Dad. Harry and Gin had stopped giving any of their kids such speeches ages ago, especially as there were few places the famous Potter kids could travel to that didn't have the ever-watchful eye of security, the media, or one of their very extended family members somewhere in the vicinity.
"Shall we then?" he asked, checking his watch. Waving goodbye to Neville, he lifted the Portkey up for Abbie and held his breath.
Soon they were deposited noisily onto a green about a half mile walk from the pitch. Already there were witches and wizards of all sorts streaming toward the field, and even if it wasn't the size of a World Cup or even a national team game, Al was delighted by the sheer size of the crowd. Something about being totally anonymous in a crowd has always appealed to him. Taking Abbie's hand playfully he chucked the Portkey over his shoulder and shouted through the din, "Race you?"