A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats that rose in levels around the long oval pitch. The whole stadium was practically bathed in dim golden light, coming from the stadium's woodworking itself. At either end of the pitch, fifty feet high, were three brilliantly silver hoops.
A billboard, enormous as a house, wrote advertisements in gold writing: The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family – safe, reliable and with In-Built Anti-Burglar Buzzer… Mrs Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess-Remover: No Pain, No Stain!... Gladrags Wizardwear –London, Paris, Hogsmeade…
Bets were being made as friends and families climbed the many stairs to their seats, chattering about winnings, fawning over the players between girls that squealed together in small clumps.
"A display from the team mascots will precede the match." Said someone as they buried their nose in the programme.
"National creatures from their native lands, you know. Very entertaining." Said another.
The Top Box, occupied currently by the Weasleys, a house-elf, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and several important Ministry wizards, was slowly filling. The Minister for Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge, greeted Harry Potter like an old friend, before introducing him to a man in splendid black velvet robes trimmed in gold, who gabbled in Bulgarian when he spotted the lightening scar on the boy's forehead.
The Malfoy's joined the top box, prim and perfect, and made tense conversation with the Cornelius Fudge and the Weasleys.
The next moment, Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, charged into the Top Box, his face shining with excitement. He was –thankfully – no longer dressed in his old Wimbourne Wasps, but rather a decent set of dark robes.
"Everyone ready? Minister, ready to go?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo." Said Fudge.
Ludo Bagman whipped out his wand, directed it at his throat and said "Sonorus!", and then he spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over the spectators, booming into every corner of the stands.
"Ladies and gentlemen…welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
The spectators screamed and clapped and stamped their feet. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant nation anthems to the racket. The enormous blackboard across from the Top Box was wiped clean of its last message – Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans – a Risk with Every Mouthful! – and now showed BULGARIA: ZERO, IRELAND: ZERO.
"And now without further ado, allow me to introduce…..the Bulgarian Team Mascots!" The right hand side of the stands, a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.
A hundred Veela glided out onto the pitch. Beautiful women with white-blonde hair and skin like moonlight that began to dance to music that floated out after them. The men in the stadium made fools of themselves, and then the music abruptly stopped. Angry yells were spewing from the stadium.
"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice. "Kindly put your wands in the air… for the Irish Nation Team Mascot!"
What seemed to be a great green and gold comet zoomed into the stadium. It did one circuit of the enormous oval, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling towards the goalposts. A rainbow arched suddenly across the pitch, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd 'oooooohed' and 'aaaaahed', as though watching fireworks. The rainbow faded and the balls fo light reunited and merged; they formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. It seemed to rain gold…and in fact this was true, golden Galleons tumbled into the stands.
The shamrock was actually compose of thousands of tiny bearded men with green waistcoats, each carrying an even smaller lamp of gold – they were leprechauns. The crowd applauded loudly, some still fighting, and others rummaging around for the gold.
The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the pitch on the opposite side from the Veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome – the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you – Dimitrov!"
A scarlet clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast that he blurred, shot out onto the pitch from an entrance at the bottom of the stadium, to the wild applause of the Bulgarian supporters.
"Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaaand…KRUM!"
"And now, please greet – the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting – Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaaand – LYNCH!"
Seven green blurs shot onto the pitch, each riding a Firebolt – which was common knowledge to those who red Quidditch Weekly.
"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"
A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a fabulous moustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the pitch with his broom. A silver whistle protruded from beneath his moustache, and he carried a large wooden crate beneath his arm and his broom was beneath the other. Everyone watched closely as Mostafa mounted his broom and kicked open the crate – four balls burst into the air: the golden Snitch, two large black Bludgers, and the scarlet Quaffle, which launched high into the air and then began to fall.
"Theeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman, as one of the Irishmen took the Quaffle. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"
It was Quidditch as many at Hogwarts had never seen before. The speed of the Chasers was incredible, they were throwing the Quaffle to each other so fast the at Bagman only had time to say their names. For those who were silly enough to watch a slowed down version of the game through Omnioculars, found that the three Irish chasers executed a 'Hawkshead Attacking Formation' into a 'Porskoff Play'.
"Troy! Moran! Levski! Dimitrov! Mullet! Troy- TROY SCORES!"
The Irish Chaser took a lap of honor for scoring the first goal of the game around the pitch, and then the game was back into motion. The match became faster still, but much more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chaser, and were starting to prevent some of their best moves.
Ivanova managed to break through their ranks, dodge the Irish Keeper, Ryan, and score Bulgaria's first goal. She punched her fist into the air as the Veela began to dance their celebration.
"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova – oh, I say!" One hundred witches and wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Viktor Krum and Aidan Lynch, plummeted on their Firebolts through the center of the Irish Chasers, so fast it looked like they had jumped from a Muggle aeroplane. The crowd followed their descent, squinting ahead of the pair to try and see the Snitch.
At the very last second, Krum pulled out of the dive and spiralled away. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that echoed throughout the stadium. A huge groan radiated from the Irish seats.
"It's a time out!" yelled Bagman's voice. "As trained mediwizards hurry onto the pitch to examine Aidan Lynch!"
For those viewers watching through the Omnioculars on the play-by-play settings, the words Wronski Feint – dangerous Seeker diversion would have flashed across the lenses in purple writing.
Lynch, down on the ground with the mediwizards, was being revived with several cups of steaming potions. Krum was using this time to look for the Snitch with no interference. The Irish players were keeping an eye on their Seeker, but also on the Bulgarians, who looked pleased with Krum's play and were speaking amongst each other. Ivanova still had the Quaffle tucked under her arm, and she looked smug as she pushed her tightly braided hair out of her face.
Lynch got to his feet at last, prompting loud cheers from the Irish supporters, mounted his Firebolt and kicked back off into the air. His teammates straightened on their brooms, calling encouragement to the Seeker. He laughed something at them. Mostafa, the referee, blew his whistle.
With an astounding speed and dexterity, the Irish Chaser, Seamus Troy, knocked the Quaffle from Ivanova's hands and to teammate Charlotte Mullet. The Chasers moved with skill and a second wind, because after fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland pulled ahead by ten more goals. The enormous sign across from the Top Box read Ireland: One Hundred and Thirty, Bulgaria: Ten.
The game was starting to get dirtier.
As Mullet shot towards the goalposts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under one arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Lev Zograf, flew out to meet her.
Whatever happened, likely an elbow to the head or side, led to screams of rage from the Irish crowd and Mostafa's long shrill whistle blast, which announced a foul.
"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing – excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And – yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"
The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of hornets, now formed the words 'HA HA HA!' , including the exclamation point. The Veela across from them tossed their hair angrily and started to dance again. Hassan Mostafa, entranced by the Veela, had landed right in front of them and was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.
"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though it was obvious he was highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"
A mediwizards came tearing onto the pitch with his fingers stuffed into his ears, and kicked Mostafa in the shins. The Egyptian wizard seemed to come back to his senses, and he started shouting at the Bulgarian mascots, who now looked mutinous.
"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian Team Mascots!" Bagman commented. "Now there's something we haven't seen before…oh, this could turn nasty…"
Bagman was right, it did. The two Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesturing towards the leprechauns, who had rearranged themselves again; this time spelling 'HEE HEE HEE'. The game had practically stopped, Troy holding the Quaffle under his arm and the Bulgarians shifting on their brooms. Both Seekers were circling far above their teammates, searching for the Golden Snitch.
Mostafa was very obviously not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments. He was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling the Beaters to get back into the game. When they refused, he blew two short blasts on his whistle.
"Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman. The Bulgarian supporters howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms…yes…there they go…and Troy takes the Quaffle-"
Gameplay now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything spectators had seen so far. Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy, the Bulgarian pair specifically did not seem to care whether their clubs hit human or Bludger.
Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.
"Foul!" screamed the Irish crowd as one, leaping to their feet in tidal wave.
"Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran – deliberately flying to collide there – and it's got to be another penalty – yes, there's the whistle. "
The leprechauns rose into the air again, but formed a large hand with a rude gesture. The Veela lost control, flinging handfuls of brilliant blue fire as they launched themselves at the little men. Ministry wizards flooded onto the pitch to try and separate the two groups of mascots, but they had little success. The battle on the ground was nothing compared to the one in the air.
The Quaffle switched hands so fast, Bagman had a difficult time keeping up. "Levski – Dimitrov – Moran – Troy – Mullet – Ivanova – Moran again – Moran – MORAN SCORES!"
The cheers could barely be heard above the shrieking Veela, and the game recommenced immediately; Levski, with the Quaffle, passed to Dimitrov.
However, Irish Beater, Finbar Quigley, swung heavily at a passing Bludger and hit it as hard as he could towards Viktor Krum, who managed to see it coming, and shot forward out of the way.
Clara Ivanova, on the other hand, took the Bludger straight to the ribs, and was knocked off her broom. She plummeted towards the ground with a loud scream, which one of the Ministry wizards wrestling the mascots managed to notice. With a quickly placed Arresto Momentum, Ivanova slid to the ground, thankfully unharmed. However, a wrongly placed foot had the Chaser tumbling into the line of fire of one of the furious Veela. Everything suddenly fell still when a blue fireball hit her in the face.
"Time out!" Bagman bellowed. "Officials are calling a time out!"
The mediwizards swarmed Ivanova and the Ministry wizards managed to herd both the leprechauns and the Veela back to their appropriate sides of the pitch. The crowds hummed with nervous energy.
One of the mediwizards brandished his wand and a bright green paper plane burst from its tip and soared to the Top Box.
"Captains Moran and Dimitrov, please come to the Top Box!" Bagman said loudly after receiving the note. The two players swooped over to the Top Box and Ludo Bagman muttered "Quietus."
After several moments with the two players hovering in front of the Box, everyone could suddenly hear Bagman again.
"Chaser Clara Ivanova is unable to continue and both Captains have agreed to allow Bulgaria to use a reserve. We will take a short break to allow the Bulgarian reserve to enter the game, and allow Ivanova to receive medical attention. Captains of both teams have also agreed, along with Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge and Minister of Magic Todor Oblansk, to remove both Team Mascots from the pitch due to unnecessary provocative actions and hazardous distractions."
The remaining players soared to the ground and Mostafa cast a strong Immoblius charm on the Bludgers before taking the Quaffle from Mullet, who had grabbed it after Moran had scored.
The Board whipped itself clean and returned to showing advertisements for the time being.
The Bulgarian team, minus Krum and Dimitrov, hurried over to check on Ivanova, who waved them off with a grimace toward the area their changing room was. The Irish made for their own changing room as the mascots were slowly ushered from the stadium.
"Welcome back to the Four Hundred and Twenty-Second Quidditch World Cup Finals! The score stands with Ireland leading one hundred and seventy to ten. The Irish National Team continues on with Connolly, Ryan, Troy, Mullet, Moran, Quigley, and Lynch, while the Bulgarian National Team continues with Zograf, Levski, Dimitrov, Vulchanov, Volkov, and Krum. Chaser Clare Ivanova has decided to watch the rest of the game in the Top Box before going to Saint Mungo's for treatment." Bagman's voice brought attention to the thirteen players that had retaken to the air.
"Taking Ivanova's position for the remainder of the game is – well, this is a surprise – Lilyanna Krum! For those of you who don't know her, this fine young Reserve is the youngest Krum sibling, who shows quite some talent – no doubt thanks to some training with her big brother. Here she comes now, taking to the field with the remaining Bulgarian players! Miss Krum just recently joined the Bulgarian Reserve Team this summer!"
A player clad in scarlet shot onto the pitch, arm lifted in a wave. The back of the tight-fitting robe was emblazoned in black with 'L. Krum'. The Board filled with a picture of the young woman, a smirk on her aristocratic face. Viktor Krum swooped up next to her with a serious look on his surly face. She said something to him and then the pair soared in opposite directions. The Board followed Viktor Krum just long enough to see that his robes now bore 'V. Krum', before it returned the score.
Mostafa waved his wand at the two Immobilized Bludgers and tossed the Quaffle up in the middle of the two trios of Chasers.
"And Krum take the Quaffle – Dimitrov – Levski – Krum – Levski -" The pass between the Bulgarians was intercepted by the Irish…. "Moran – Mullet – Dimitrov -" …and it was just as quickly intercepted by the Bulgarians.
"Levski – Krum – Dimitrov – Levski – Dimitrov again – Krum – KRUM SCORES!"
The Reserve hurled the Quaffle past Ryan, while Volkov smacked a Bludger at the Irish Chaser Troy, who was flying to steal the Quaffle from behind. Mullet grabbed the Quaffle from its descent from behind the goal posts.
"Mullet in possession – Moran – Troy – Mullet – Moran – Dimitrov – Lev.. –Troy – back to Mullet – Mullet…. Throws and is intercepted by Zograf! Krum – Levski – Dimitrov – Mullet – Troy – Moran – Mullet – Troy – TROY SCORES!"
The Board flashed with the score: IRELAND: ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY, BULGARIA: TWENTY.
"Levski with the Quaffle – Dimitrov – Levski – Krum - "
Some unknown signal between the three Bulgarian Chasers had them converging in a tight knot, which had the Omnioculars reading Cambridge Knot – highly difficult Chaser maneuver. The trio parted after several tense seconds of quick flying and they all soared towards the goalposts.
"Bulgaria with the Quaffle – Ryan looking nervous now - "
All three Chasers skidded to a halt in front of the hoops and reared back their arms in total synchrony. Levski, who actually had the Quaffle, hurled it forward and through the far right hoop, while Krum and Dimitrov shot forward at catch it on the opposite side.
"LEVSKI SCORES! Dimitrov – Moran – Troy – Krum -"
A well-aimed Bludger knocked the Quaffle into Lilyanna Krum's hands in the middle of a pass between the Irish Chasers.
"Krum – Levski – Krum again – Dimitrov – Krum – KRUM SCORES!"
The Irish snatched the Quaffle from the air and made a beeline for the Bulgarian hoops, passing so quickly the Bulgarian Chasers had no hope to steal.
"Mullet – Moran – Troy – Moran – Troy – Mullet – Moran – Troy – MORAN – MORAN SCORES!"
The game, now that it had calmed from the rioting Veela and the incredibly cheeky leprechauns, was far less dirty than it had been.
Zograf grabbed the Quaffle before the Irish could and smacked it to Dimitrov with the tail of his broom.
"Dimitrov – Krum – Levski – Troy – Krum – Mullet – Levski – Dimitrov -"
A narrowly dodged Bludger dropped the Quaffle to the Irish Chasers, who quickly scored again.
The match lasted another hour, the two teams racing back and forth across the pitch in a frenzy that Ludo Bagman was having trouble commentating, due to the speed they now played at.
Finally, with the score reading IRELAND: TWO HUNDRED AND NINETY, BULGARIA: ONE HUNDRED AND TEN, the Snitch was spotted. Lynch noticed it first and tore into a steep dive. Krum was only a few precious seconds behind the Irish Seeker, blood gushing from a Bludger-broken nose.
The entire game practically screeched to a halt as everyone watched the two Seekers plummet for the Snitch. Three of the Chasers were still in motion, even as the stadium rose to its feet in anticipation.
Krum was drawing level with Lynch now, as the pair of them hurtled towards the ground again – it looked as though they were going to crash.
However, for the second time, it was Lynch who hit the ground with tremendous force, and was set upon by exasperated looking mediwizards.
Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.
The Scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY, IRELAND: TWO HUNDRED AND NINETY across the crowd, the majority of whom didn't seem to realize what had actually happened. Slowly, as though a jumbo jet was revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder, before erupting into screams of delight.
"IRELAND WINS!" shouted Bagman, who seemed surprised at the turnout. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH, BUT IRELAND WINS – good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that! … Now, hang on one moment! Bulgaria's score seems to have been miscounted!"
The Bulgarianside of the stadium hissed and booed at Bagman.
"Gracious me! I've just been informed that Lilyanna Krum scored a goal seconds before the Snitch was captured by her big brother! My apologies, Bulgaria!"
The teams sank to the ground, and mediwizards hurried over to Krum who was being fussed over by his sister, who had an amused smirk on her face. Viktor, however, looked surlier than ever, and brushed off the mediwizards. His teammates stood or hovered around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected. The Irish players, a short way away, were practically doing a jig.
Flags were being waved all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blaring from all sides.
"And as the Irish team perform a lap of honor, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman over the noise. The Top Box magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see inside. Two panting wizards marched in carrying a large golden cup, which they handed to Minister Fudge.
"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers – Bulgaria!"
Up the stairs into the Box came the seven defeated players, who met Ivanova with disappointed grimaces. One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats into the Box.
"Ivanova!" Bagman called as the Chaser shook hands with both Ministers. "Levski! Dimitrov! Zograf! Vulchanov! Volkov! Krum and Krum!"
Viktor looked a real mess. He had two black eyes that were already blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. However, when the Krums were announced, the whole stadium gave them a resounding, ear-splitting roar.
And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly, and he looked a bit dazed and unfocused. But he still grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air.
The crowd thundered their approval below.
Finally, when the Irish team left the box to preform another lap of honor on their brooms (Lynch on the back of Connolly's), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered 'Quietus'.