Chapter 1 – The Surprise
Harry awoke to the sun creeping in through the orange, Chudley Cannons curtains draped over the window. He stretched his arms and yawned loudly, knocking a glass off the trunk next to cot he slept on.
The red headed boy, on the bed across the room, didn't seem to notice any of the racket his roommate was making. His snores continued undisturbed.
Shifting in his bed, Harry tried to get comfortable again. It had been awhile since he had actually gotten the chance to sleep in. The night before he had arrived at the Weasley's burrow, Hermoine had already been there a few days. Needless to say, life at number four privet drive had been less than satisfactory. Dudley, his overweight cousin, had been up to his usual antics. Aunt Petunia was on a health kick, trying to get the family to eat healthier because of something she had seen on the 5 o'clock news. Her round son, was fighting it every step of the way. One night while she was tucking him into bed she found doughnuts stashed underneath his bed. A loud crash was then followed by screams; Dudley had thrown his playstation out the window in a rage. He then proceeded to hold his breath until his large face turned three shades of blue and his mother, exasperated, gave in and returned the doughnuts to him. Back in the burrow though, the yelling was much more welcome.
"Ron, would you get up out of bed!" Their friend of three years was attempting to pull him out of his hibernation. "Ronald! You mother has breakfast on the table and your father wants to leave earlier for the match! He says he has a surprise for us!" She hit him with a pillow.
The youngest Weasley boy groaned.
Feeling as though she had accomplished her task, she made for the door, but not before turning to Harry, "You can get up too you know."
Both boys reluctantly rolled off their bunks, and pulled on jeans. The floor boards under their feet squeaked as they drug themselves down the five floors.
Molly Weasley, a plump middle aged woman, was busy in her kitchen finishing up the breakfast orders. Over the years she had learned a few tricks to become quite proficient in this area. She waved her wand over the pile of dirty dishes, "Arthur dear, your food is getting cold. You can worry about that later."
Her husband followed her advice and sat down at the wooden table where his children and Harry had already found a place. "We're all here dear." He counted heads again just be sure.
Flicking her wand toward the table, the plates seemed to instantly fill with food. Every time Harry would finish what was in front of him, Mrs. Weasley would insist that he needed to eat more.
After everyone had eaten their fifth helping, Mr. Weasley stood up from the table. "We better get a move on, kids. I expect, the Diggorys will be waiting."
The seven of them made their way out the door and trekked through the fields for what seemed like hours. All the while, Ron, Fred, and George argued about which bunk they would get once they reached the stadium. The twins insisted that their father had forgotten a bunk, so Ron would be left to sleep on the dirt floor.
"Would you three stop bickering?" Arthur Weasley wiped the sweat from his forehead, and situated the plaid cap on his head. "We're almost there. Just the top of the hill."
"It's about time." Cedric Diggory, a young boy about the same age as the twins was now standing at the top of the hill. "Dad, the Weasleys have made it."
"Oy, Arthur, I thought you'd gotten lost." A voice came from a patch of tall grass on the other side of the hill.
Smiling, Mr. Weasley replied, "We had a bit of a late start. Some of us wanted to sleep in." He glanced over at his youngest son.
"Have you told them yet?" Amos Diggory, stood up. He turned around to check the spot where he had been, but nothing was left except for the indention of where he had once lain.
"Told us what?" The twins looked curiously at their father.
"Ah, yes," Arthur straightened his jacket. "Amos and I have arraigned for you all to meet Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian's seeker, before the match."
Mr. Diggory, was now strutting toward the group, "His father use to be a good friend of mine growing up and he owed me a favor for keeping the ministry out of his hair back in '82."
Ron nearly knocked Ginny and Hermoine over he was so excited.
"I thought you might enjoy it. Now then, we best find that portkey." Arthur glanced around. "Ah, here it is." He motioned for the others to follow. On the side of the hill, part of the tall grass had been burned away and in the middle of the clearing an old, brown boot lay on its' side. The boot looked as though it had came directly from a muggle junkyard.
"Sir, that's a boot." The boy who lived had still not learned much about the wizarding world that he now lived in. "How is that supposed to take us to the World Cup?"
"I don't have time to explain in detail, Harry. Just be sure to grab ahold of it and don't let go until I say so."
With that, all nine of them squeezed as close as they could together and took hold of the grungy portkey. Within seconds they were in a whirlwind, Harry couldn't see anything above or below him. His body felt as though it were floating through a cloud. He heard the muffled voice of Mr. Weasley, then watched as the rest of the group let go. The raven haired boy let go immediately, and fell toward the earth. He hit something soft, as he hit the ground. Fixing his round glasses so that he could see properly, the boy who lived had fallen in to the tent of none other than Viktor Krum.
The Bulgarian seeker was tall and muscular. His dark hair was cropped close to his close to his head and his thick black eyebrows hung over eyes that seemed even darker. He was now standing inches from Harry, with a look on his face that was both surprise and irritation. A man with the same crooked nose as Krum was standing behind him, peering curiously over his shoulder.
A red headed man, and shorter brunette could be seen poking their heads in the open door of the tent.
The man standing behind the older quidditch player, jumped at the sight of the men, then quickly made his way toward the door, tripping on part of the canvas tent that lay on the ground. "Amos! It's been a long time dear friend!"
As the two friends caught up with each other, Arthur Weasley wandered in and pulled the raven haired boy to his feet, "Alright Harry?"
The fourteen year old brushed off his jeans, "Fine, thanks."
Viktor Krum still stood in the same spot. Slightly baffled by the confusion, but more irritated by the fact that there was now a gaping hole in the top of his tent.
Mr. Weasley pulled his wand out of his pocket and flicked it toward the collapsing canvas. Immediately it repaired himself. "Sorry, about that. Harry's a bit new at using a portkey." He shook Krum's hand. "No harm done though?"
Viktor smiled politely as his father invited both families in to have a cup of tea. They all sat in a space of the tent that looked similar, to what Harry imagined, to be a mansion. It had a long table in the middle filled with snacks and different things to drink. The chairs were all covered in upholstery that was the same deep read as the Bulgarian's quidditch robes. There were banners that hung from the ceiling flying the very same colors. The one in the middle was completely black and had a golden snitch that seemed to zoom from one side to the next.
The group talked for hours about qudditch and the many spectacular performances that had come from the seeker. Finally, Krum and his father stood from the table, thanked everyone for their company and told everyone that they need to get some rest before the match the next day. The Diggorys also said good night as both families made their way out of the tent.
When they got back to the Weasley's tent, everyone fell asleep within minutes except for Harry. The raven haired boy lay awake running through the conversations in his mind. He thought that maybe being a professional qudditch player might be a career choice that he would consider. As he finally drifted off, he dreamt of playing against the Bulgarian's in the World Cup, where he and Krum raced to be the first to catch the golden snitch.
"Harry, wake up!" Ron smacked his best friend in the face with a pillow. "You have mail." The red headed boy handed him an envelope that simply had Harry's name scribbled across it.
The raven haired boy opened the envelope to find seven box tickets, for that night's game. A note was folded up behind them.
Instead of having you drop in on me, I thought I might invite you into my private box as my personal guests. Enjoy the match.
- Viktor Krum