SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN SO LONG! MY COMPUTER HATES ME AND HAS BEEN GIVING ME TROUBLE! I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER OR DRACULA! PLEASE REVIEW!
LADY OF THE NIGHT: YEAR FOUR:
CHAPTER ONE:
That summer, I awoke to Renfield shaking me awake. "Miss Gabrielle. Time to wake up."
"Five more minutes, Renny..."
"I am sorry, Miss Gabrielle, but it is time to leave to for the Portkey." I yawned, stretching as I made my way to the smaller of the two dining halls, where Dracula was awaiting me. He sipped on a goblet of blood, and arched his left eyebrow. "Took you long enough." I grabbed a piece of toast and followed Renny out the back door. "Oh, please. You know you love spending as much time as you can with me before I head off to school." He took another sip of his goblet, watching me and Renny leave.
Three hours later, Renny and I arrived at the Portkey, which was an old soda can. Renny glanced around. "It does not appear as though anyone shall be joining us." I nodded, and five minutes later, the Portkey took off.
Renny landed gently, chuckling as he looked down at me on the ground. "Rough landing, Evangeline?" We had to go back to using my alias now that we were among other people. He walked over to a witch, and spoke to her for a while. After a bit, she assigned us a campsite, and told us who to talk to.
After we'd finally managed to erect our tent, I asked Renny if I could go looking Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and he consented after fifteen minutes of my pleading with him to let me go.
I finally found them at a salesman's cart, where Harry was buying three pairs of Omnioculars. "Guys! Guys!" I ran over to them, waving excitedly. "Evangeline! Hey!"
"Hey, guys! Uncle Renny and I just got here!" I turned to the salesman. "One pair of Omnioculars and a large Ireland rosette. Thanks."
A little while later, Renny and I met up again with the Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys in the Top Box. I watched with Harry as the blackboards kept writing on themselves in gold writing and then wiping it off again.
The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family-Safe, Reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer...
Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!...
Gladrag's Wizardwear-London, Paris, Hogsmeade...
Harry looked over his shoulder to see who else was in the Top Box with us, and Ron, Hermione, and I jumped when we heard him exclaim, "Dobby!?"
"Did sir just call me Dobby?" Ron, Hermione, Mr. Weasley and I turned around for a look. "Sorry. I thought you were someone I knew."
"But I knows Dobby too, sir! My name is Winky, sir-and you, sir-" Her eyes widened as they came to land on Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter, sir!" Harry nodded. "Yeah, I am."
"But Dobby talks about you all the time, sir!"
"How is he? How's freedom suiting him?" Winky bit her lip, looking slightly disapproving. "Ah, sir, meaning no disrespect, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free." Harry frowned, confused. "Why? What's wrong with him?"
"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir. Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir." Harry still looked confused. "Why not?" Winky looked around and lowered her voice. "He is wanting paying for his work, sir."
Harry blinked at this. "Paying? Well, why shouldn't he be payed?" Winky hid her face in her hands again. "House-elves is not paid, sir! Oh, no, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says to him, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. But he is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you is up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."
Harry shrugged. "Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun." Winky looked stunned at his words. "House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter. House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter"-Winky looked over at the edge of the Top Box, her fingers shaking-"but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir."
"Why's he sent you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" Harry asked her.
"Master-master-wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He's very busy. Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, sir, but she does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf." Harry looked back over at us, and I arched an eyebrow. "So, that's a house-elf? Weird things, aren't they?"
"Dobby was weirder, trust me."
Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them. "Cool! I can make that bloke down there pick his nose again...and again...and again..."
Hermione, on the other hand, was flipping through her World Cup program. "A display from the team mascots will precede the match." Mr. Weasley smiled. "Oh, that's always worth watching. National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."
The Top Box filled up over the next half hour.
Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with obviously important wizards, and Percy kept jumping up so often that he looked like someone trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge showed up, Percy bowed so low that his glasses shattered. Looking extremely embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and stayed in his seat after that, shooting jealous looks at Harry, who the Minister greeted like an old friend. I simply chuckled, knowing that they had met before, and Fudge asked him how he was, then introduced Harry to the Bulgarian Minister, who was right next to him, and apparently couldn't speak a word of English.
"Harry Potter, you know...Harry Potter...oh, come, now...you know who he is...the boy who survived You-Know-Who...you do know who he is..."
The Bulgarian Minister suddenly spotted Harry's scar and pointed at it, chattering away excitedly, and Fudge sighed. "Knew we'd get there in the end. I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. I see his house-elf's saving him a seat...Good thing, too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to take all the best places...oh, and here's Lucius!"
Harry, Ron, Hermione and I turned around to look just as the Malfoys reached Fudge. "Ah, Fudge. How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"
"How do you do, how do you do?" Fudge nodded at them in turn. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk-Obalonsk-Mr.-well, he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see...who else...you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"
Mr. Malfoy's eyes scanned over Mr. Weasley, and he smirked condescendingly. "Good lord, Arthur. What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"
Fudge, who obviously wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."
"How-how nice," Mr. Weasley said with a strained smile.
I smirked at Mr. Malfoy. "Very wise of him, as well. That way, why, there will be absolutely no doubt of him getting top priority care should he ever need it, will there?" He narrowed his eyes at me, but said nothing as he continued on to his seat.
"Slimy gits," Ron muttered as we turned back to the field.
The next minute, Ludo Bagman came charging into the Top Box. "Everyone ready? Minister-ready to go?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo."
Bagman whipped out his wand, pointed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound filling the packed stadium. "Ladies and gentlemen: welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!" Fans began screaming and clapping in approval at this (myself among them). The blackboard wiped itself clean, and now showed:
BULGARIA: 0
IRELAND: 0
"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"
"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them on his robes. "Veela!" Renny also looked eager to see the veela come onto the field, while I just rolled my eyes.
Then the veela started dancing, and Ron and Harry were acting like complete idiots. Harry had one of his legs resting on the wall of the box, and Ron looked as though he were about to dive from a springboard.
Angry yells had begun to fill the stadium. The onlookers didn't want the veela to leave. Ron had begun to shred the shamrocks on his hat. Mr. Weasley, smiling, reached over and plucked it out of his hands. "You'll be wanting that once Ireland have had their say."
"Huh?" Ron said, staring at the veela, who were lined up on one side of the field. Hermione made a loud scathing noise as she pulled Harry back into his seat. "Honestly!"
"And now," Ludo Bagman's voice came booming across the field, "kindly put your wands in the air...for the Irish National Team Mascots!" The next second, what looked like a giant green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did a full circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goalposts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light.
We all ooohhed and aahhed, as if watching a fireworks display. Suddenly, the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Golden rain began falling from it-
"Excellent!" Ron yelled as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. "There you go! For the Omnioculars!" Ron yelled happily, shoving a fistful of gold coins into Harry's hand. "Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present!"
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome-the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you-Dimitrov!"
One of the Bulgarian players zoomed out onto the field.
"Ivanova!"
Another player followed Dimitrov.
"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaannd-Krum!" The stadium exploded with cheers.
"That's him, that's him!" Ron began following Krum with his Omnioculars.
"And now, please greet-the Irish National Quidditch Team!" Bagman yelled. "Presenting-Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaaand-Lynch!"
I focused my Omnioculars so I could see the Irish team flying out. 'Firebolt' was written on the side of each of their brooms, and their names were embroidered in silver on their backs. "And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"
After the referee had released the balls, he blew his whistle and took off into the air. "They're off! And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!" The stadium roared as the players zoomed around the field.
"TROY SCORES! Ten-zero to Ireland!" Harry looked up from his Omnioculars, obviously confused. "What? But-but Levski's got the Quaffle!"
"Harry, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" I yelled, while Hermione danced around in her seat as Troy did a lap of honor around the field.
Within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice again, bringing their lead up to thirty-zero. The match became faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.
"Fingers in your ears!" Mr. Weasley yelled as the veela began dancing in celebration. After a little while, though, they stopped dancing, and Bulgaria was once again in possession of the Quaffle.
"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova-oh, I say!" Bagman roared.
The two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked like they'd jumped from airplanes without any parachutes. "They're going to crash!" Hermione screamed.
At the very last second, Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, on the other hand, hit the ground with a dull thud that echoed throughout the entire stadium. "Fool!" Mr. Weasley moaned. "Krum was feinting!"
"It's time-out!" Bagman's voice shouted, "as trained mediwizards hurry out onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"
"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course..."
Lynch finally got to his feet, to loud cheers from the Ireland supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air.
After fifteen more minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. As Mullet shot towards the goalposts again, the Quaffle clutched tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf flew out to meet her.
I couldn't see what had happened, but the screams of rage from the Irish crowd and Mostafa's whistle blast told me that a foul had occurred. "And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing-excessive use of elbows! And-yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"
The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!"
The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and began to dance again. Immediately, the Weasley boys and Harry crammed their fingers in their ears, but Hermione and I tugged on Harry's arm. "Look at the referee!" Hermione was trying hard not to laugh as I pointed down at the field.
Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache. "Now, we can't have that!" Ludo Bagman chuckled. "Somebody slap the referee!" A mediwizard came running across the field and kicked Mostafa in the shins. He shook his head and seemed to come around; as I watched through the Omnioculars, I saw that he was now yelling at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were now glaring daggers at him.
"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots! Now, there's something we haven't seen before...oh, this could get nasty..."
The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed in front of Mostafa and began arguing with him. When it looked as though they refused to get flying again, Mostafa gave another blast on his whistle. "Two penalties for Ireland! And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms...yes, there they go...and Troy takes the Quaffle..." Play reached a level of ferocity that I'd never seen before. The Beaters on both teams were playing without mercy; Volkov and Vulchanov looked like they didn't care whether their clubs made contact with human or Bludger. Dimitrov flew at Moran, who had the Quaffle, almost knocking her off of her broom.
"Foul!" the Irish fans yelled, standing up in a great wave.
"Foul!" Bagman shouted, echoing them. "Dimitrov skins Moran-deliberately flying to collide there-and it's got to be another penalty-yes, there's the whistle!"
The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time formed a giant hand, which made a rude sign at the veela across the field. At this, the veela completely lost it. Instead of their dancing, they threw themselves across the field and began throwing what looked like handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Their faces had changed into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders.
"And that, boys," Mr. Weasley yelled over the crowd, "is why you should never go for looks alone!"
Ministry wizards were running out onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but it didn't look like they were having much success.
"Levski-Dimitrov-Moran-Troy-Mullet-Ivanova-Moran again-Moran-MORAN SCORES!"
Quigley, one of the Irish Beaters, swung at a passing Bludger, hitting it as hard as possible toward Krum, who didn't duck quickly enough, and it hit him full in the face. Krum's nose was broken, and there was blood everywhere, but Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. I couldn't blame him, though; one of the veela had just thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail on fire.
Ron groaned. "Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that!"
"Look at Lynch!" Harry suddenly yelled. The Irish Seeker had once again gone into a dive, and this didn't look like a Wronski Feint, this was the real thing..."He's seen the Snitch!" Harry yelled. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"
The Irish supporters rose in a wave of green, screaming Lynch on...but Krum was right on his tail. "They're going to crash!" Hermione screamed.
"No, they're not!" Ron yelled.
"Lynch is!" I screamed. For the second time, Lynch hit the ground with a thud and was immediately trampled by a mass of angry veela.
"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" Charlie yelled, a few seats down. "He's got it-Krum's got it-it's all over!" Harry shouted back. Krum was rising into the air, the Snitch clutched in his fist. The scoreboard was flashing
BULGARIA: 160
IRELAND: 170
across the crowd, who hadn't yet grasped what had happened. Then, like a giant airplane was revving up, the rumbling from the Irish fans erupted into screams of delight.
"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH-BUT IRELAND WINS-good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"
"What did he catch the Snitch for?!" I yelled, hugging Hermione. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead!" Harry grinned at me. "He knew they were never going to catch up! The Irish Chasers were too good...he wanted to end it on his terms, that's all..."
"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said. "He looks a terrible mess..."
"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a voice behind us. We turned around to see the Bulgarian Minister of Magic. "You can speak English!" Fudge sputtered angrily. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"
"Vell, it vos very funny," the Bulgarian Minister said, shrugging. I crammed my fist into my mouth to keep from bursting into laughter.
"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" Bagman yelled. My eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Peering at the entrance, I could see two panting wizards carrying a giant golden cup into the box, which they handed to Fudge.
"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers-Bulgaria!" Bagman yelled. One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each player as they shook hands with their own Minister and then with Fudge.
Then came the Irish team. Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; it looked like the second crash had dazed him slightly and his eyes seemed a little out of focus. But he grinned as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd applauded loudly.
Finally, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Lynch was riding on the back of Connolly's), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and said "Quietus."
"They'll be talking about this one for years," he muttered hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that...shame it couldn't have lasted longer...Ah, yes...yes, I owe you...how much?"
Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Bagman with broad grins on their faces, hands outstretched.
