A/N:

Sorry for the HUGE delay in updates o.O I've been a bit pressed for time. I'm rewriting one of my original stories for a friend's sweet sixteen. Of all of my original work, it was her favorite, but I'm not satisfied with it. I wrote it when I was twelve, so the vocabulary seems so immature to me now... Oh, how time flies... Aw, I so such a cute little authoress! The story is about how four of my friends and I get trapped in a pyramid. It's pretty cool. Booby traps, undiscovered mummies, 'cursed' treasure, bats, etc. Not bad for little me :D

Anyway, on to what you WANTED to read~

This chapter is dedicated to S. E. Brodie, who I promised that I'd update tonight. Well, Re, it is 11:06, so I hope you like the chapter

Even if I don't own HP TT_TT


In true Irish fashion, I had exchanged my normal black cloak for a mossy green one. I wore shamrock earrings and put a green streak through my hair with a quick charm. It contrasted with my auburn hair and nearly matched my emerald eyes and I laughed at the mirror, seeing just how Irish I looked.

We bought merchandise from various salesmen before heading up to the pitch. Ron purchased a pointed green hat that was covered with dancing shamrocks, a large green rosette that mewed the names of the Irish players, and a charmed model of Viktor Krum that strolled around his hand. Harry bought a large green shamrock and omnioculars for himself, Ron, and Hermione, much to Ron's protest. Hermione bought programs for the three and a vibrant green rosette. I myself bought a rosette and a pair of Omnioculars.


When the time came to make our way to the pitch, we regrouped with the other Weasleys. Remus and Sirius were contrasting colors. Remus, like myself, was supporting Ireland while Sirius decided to support Bulgaria's team. Either way, Black or Lupin, one side would win ultimate bragging rights. The Weasleys were dressed more sedately, the only biased colors they wore being the bright green rosettes and flags. I had somehow tamed Hermione's hair and put a green streak through it, just as I did Ginny's.

We walked through the woods until the stadium came into view. I, having been to quite a few World Cups on invitation from the Irish team, was unsurprised by its size, but the kids were struck by its gargantuan form.

While Arthur spouted facts on the stadium, I handed our tickets to a friendly witch located at the entrance. She checked our seats before smiling at us widely.

"Prime seats, Top Box! Straight upstairs and as high as you can go!" she shouted helpfully over the dull roar that began to fill the field.

I led the way to the Top Box, the Weasleys and my own ragtag family trailing after me. We took our places in the seats, just as the other hundred thousand witches and wizards did in the lower seats.

I glanced around the room, the only other occupant of which being a house elf.

"Dobby?" Harry asked incredulously. The house elf lifted her head out of her hands in shock. It wasn't Dobby, as Harry had first presumed, but the recognition in her brown eyes suggested that she knew him.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" she squeaked in a high voice. Ron, Hermione, and Arthur all turned to look at the elf.

"Sorry," Harry apologized a little sheepishly. "I just thought you were someone I knew."

"But I knows Dobby too, sir!" she squeaked a little excitedly. "My name is Winky, sir- and you, sir- You is surely Harry Potter!" Her eyes had found Harry's lightning bolt scar. Harry and I shifted our weight uncomfortably and in unison.

"Yeah, I am," Harry confirmed.

"Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" she said, looking awestruck at my young nephew. Harry asked how Dobby was doing and her eyes darted to the ground sadly.

"Ah, sir... Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free."

"Why? What's wrong with him?" Harry asked worriedly. Winky sniffed.

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir. Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

She went on to describe how Dobby wanted payment for work and I began to focus on other topics, especially when the box began to fill. Important witches and wizards, some I knew, some I did not, came to shake both my hand and Arthur's before being nearly attacked by Percy in his search for acknowledgement.

When the Bulgarians entered the tent, sided by Fudge, I had to stifle a laugh. There the Minister for Magic stood, making an utter fool of himself as he tried to understand the Bulgarian Minister for Magic, a man I knew to understand and speak English quite well. It was evident that the Bulgarian Minister was enjoying the other Minister's torture- a small grin was visible on his features.

"Mr. Oblanski," I greeted, holding my hand out to the wizard as Fudge butchered his name. He took my hand curiously and I smiled, automatically switching to Bulgarian. "I apologize for this idiot's behavior. Mr. Fudge was never the best at communication, even if he understands the language," I smiled. The Bulgarian Minister's eyes lit up with humor.

"Ah, you speak Bulgarian?" he asked. "It is no fault of Mr. Fudge. If anything, it is rather amusing to watch him try to speak with us. I will admit that watching Mr. Fudge mime everything will no doubt be as entertaining as this game."

I laughed with the man as Fudge looked between us, shock the prominent emotion playing on his face.

"You speak Bulgarian?" he asked me, astounded. I nodded, switching back to English.

"Of course I do. I may not be as proficient as Mr. Crouch in linguistics, but I know enough to hold a conversation."

"How many languages do you speak?" Arthur asked, amused as Percy froze, nonsense coming from his mouth every few moments.

"English, Gobbledegook, Bulgarian, Russian, Spanish, French, Italian, Mermish... Lost count somewhere around forty. Although, I don't speak Troll, I do know how to say Happy Christmas in Unicorn," I grinned. "I have a pretty good American accent, too, if you want to hear it."

While the twins, joined by their younger siblings, Hermione, and Harry, laughed at Percy's expression, I turned my attention to the entrance to the box where I caught a flash of silver hair. There, standing in the doorway, were the Malfoys. Ignoring Lucius' cold glare, I made my way to Narcissa.

"Narcissa, I haven't seen you in so long! How have you been these past few years?" I asked warmly, hugging the other woman for just a moment. Her expression froze before she smiled at me.

"Well, thank you," she answered familiarly. Lucius, pulling Fudge towards us, introduced his wife and son.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy. Enjoying your summer?" I asked my student. He glanced first at his mother, then at his father, before nodding curtly to me. "I just wanted to let you know that I am going to return to Hogwarts this year. I have some fun lessons planned for my fourth years," I grinned. Draco's expression remained fairly neutral, a small grimace pulling at his lips.

Lucius sneered towards Hermione and I narrowed my eyes at him, clearing my throat. Lucius didn't say anything, seeing as he was in front of Fudge, but he shot Hermione and the Weasleys a contemptuous look.

"Slimy gits," Ron muttered under his breath. I chuckled and sat down, waiting for the game to start.

To start the pre-game show, Bulgaria's team sent out a hundred veela. Being female myself, I was unaffected by their songs and dancing, but it was amusing to watch the men make utter fools of themselves. Only Remus kept his wits, and that was by clapping his hands over his ears, humming to himself, and keeping his eyes on the ground. Sirius had a grin on his face, his eyes unfocused. Harry and Ron were both standing, leaning almost out of the box.

When the show ended, the crowd shouted angrily, joined by muttered arguments from the men in the box. Arthur reached over and stopped Ron from destroying his shamrock hat.

"You'll be wanting that once Ireland's had their say," he warned, a smile on his face.

The Irish team sent out a green and gold comet that danced through the air before separating into two. A vibrant rainbow formed between the two balls of light before forming into a huge shamrock of bright green that rained golden coins. On closer inspection, I laughed, seeing the leprechauns.

Settling down, the leprechauns took their places on Ireland's side of the pitch, just as the veela sat down crossed-legged to watch the game from the Bulgarian side.

Ludo, helped by his Sonorous charm, announced the Bulgarian team: Dimitrov, Ivanova, Zograf, Levski, Vulchanov, Volkov, and Krum. When Krum's name was called, and the eighteen year old flew into the stadium, the crowd went absolutely crazy. Ron was beside himself, shaking Harry by the shoulders excitedly as Hermione rolled her eyes.

Personally, I couldn't care less. My attention was only warranted by the Irish team. While I couldn't often see them, the seven green blurs that rushed the stadium had become my friends.

The referee, a man by the name of Hassan Mostafa, was introduced and opened the crate containing the four balls that made Quidditch so unique: the quaffle, the bludgers, and the miniscule golden snitch.

"They're OFF!" Ludo shouted. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

The chasers were passing the quaffle back and forth so quickly that Ludo hardly had the time to say their names. I watched the three Irish chasers come together, Troy taking point as they used the Hawkshead Formation. Troy darted up, the quaffle in his arm, and separated the Bulgarian chasers before dropping the red ball into Moran's waiting arms.

Moran had to barrel roll to avoid a bludger aimed at him by one of the Bulgarian beaters. He dropped the quaffle, and it was caught by Levski. Moran, recovering from the almost hit, spun upwards, shadowed by Mullet. The two Irish chasers rushed Levski, sandwiching him from above and below and forcing him to throw the quaffle to another Bulgarian chaser. The ball was intercepted by Troy and he sped away to the Bulgarian side of the field, quickly joined by Mullet and Moran. The two chasers covered their teammate as he made his way to the goalposts and shot it in, scoring the first ten points and causing the crowd to go nuts.

"TROY SCORES!" Ludo roared. "Ten to zero, Ireland!"

"Yeah! Troy!" I shouted at the top of my lungs as my friend made his lap of honor. Remus shot me an amused glance and I blushed ever so slightly.

"We go back," I shrugged.

The game sped up. Moran scored, followed up by another excellent goal by Troy, within ten minutes. The Bulgarian beaters began upping their game, sending the bludgers into the Irish chasers' formations with resounding cracks. One of the Bulgarian chasers danced through the Irish defense before I knew what he was doing and made a perfect throw that sailed through Ryan's guard and into the Irish goalpost, scoring Bulgaria's first goal.

The men averted their eyes and covered their ears when the veela began to dance in victory.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova! Oh, I say!" Ludo shouted, watching Krum and Lynch spin towards the ground.

My eyes scanned the ground in their path and I groaned, recognizing the maneuver.

"Don't fall for-!" It was too late, and Lynch wouldn't have heard me anyway. I recognized Krum's strategy as the Wronski Feint, a dangerous tactic but definitely worth it if applied correctly.

"Fool!" Arthur moaned. "Krum was feinting!"

"It's time out!" Ludo yelled, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aiden Lynch!"

"Ugh, Lynch! I told you to watch out for the Wronski!" I groaned as Charlie reassured his sister that Lynch would be okay. Bill looked at me curiously.

"You know the Irish seeker?"

"I saved Troy's life about fifteen years ago. I know the whole team," I shrugged. "And I specifically told Lynch to watch out for the Wronski Feint! Come on, Lynch, get your head in the game!"

"I'd be happy if his head's alright after that crash," Arthur sighed. Sirius looked at me and laughed.

"What?"

"It's like sixth year all over again... Remember our game with Ravenclaw?" he laughed. I gritted my teeth- it wasn't entirely similar. I had just figured out the Wronski Feint and wanted to try it out in a game. Unfortunately, I had gotten a new broom just before the game and didn't take in the increase of speed into consideration. I smashed into the ground while the Ravenclaw seeker had plenty of time to pull away. The reminder didn't exactly help my mood; I'd broken three ribs, my arm, and dislocated my right shoulder in that move.

On the field, Krum was searching for the snitch with his eyes, undisturbed by the Irish team. When Lynch got back to his feet and into the air, you could tell that the Irish team was out for revenge. Clean revenge, but revenge nonetheless.

Fifteen minutes later, the Irish were ahead, one hundred and thirty to ten, and the Bulgarians were starting to play more maliciously. The Bulgarian keeper got called out for excessively elbowing Mullet in the face, forcing her to drop the quaffle.

The leprechauns darted through the air and spelled out the words "HA, HA, HA!"

The veela, seeing this, began to dance again, and Mostafa wasn't quick enough in covering his ears, began to fall under their spell. He landed in front of them, flexing his muscles and smoothing his rather large moustache.

"Now we can't have that," Ludo called, sounding rather amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"

A mediwizard came dashing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his ears, and kicked Mostafa in the shins. The kick seemed to snap the referee out of it and he looked exceptionally embarrassed. He shouted something at the veela, who had stopped dancing and looked very angry.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots! Now there is something we haven't seen before... Oh this could turn nasty..." Ludo announced to the crowd.

It did indeed: the Bulgarian beaters landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing heatedly with him. Their arguments proved ineffective; the leprechauns shifted to spell out "HEE, HEE, HEE!"

Mostafa, unimpressed, gestured for the beaters to take to the air. When they didn't, he blew his whistle twice.

"Two penalties to Ireland!" Ludo roared as the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "Volkov and Vulchanov better get back on those brooms... yes, there they go... and Troy takes the quaffle!"

The game became even more fierce. The beaters on either side grew more malicious, especially on the Bulgarian side. A scarlet-clad chaser nearly crashed into Moran, almost knocking her off of her broom and the quaffle out of her hands.

"Foul!" the Irish supporters roared in unison, a wave of green shuddering in the stands. Ludo's magically magnified voice soon echoed after them.

"Dimitrov skins Moran, deliberately flying to collide there, and it's got to be a penalty- yes, there's the whistle!"

The leprechauns were overjoyed. They took to the air once more, now forming a giant hand that was making a very rude gesture to the veela on the other side of the field. Enraged, the veela transformed from beautiful women to scaled bird-like creatures that threw balls of fire towards the leprechauns.

Ministry wizards flooded the field as the two species of creatures met in the middle of the field, culminating into a battle of red and green.

The game continued above them, the quaffle being thrown from one player to another as the battle continued.

Moran scored once more causing the Irish to cheer. Their shouts were all but drowned out by the screaming veela, the cracks from the Ministry wizards' wands, and the angry shout from the Bulgarians.

Quigley, one of the Irish beaters, smacked a bludger towards the Bulgarian seeker. Unable to evade it quickly enough, Krum took the bludger in the face. The blow was unnoticed by the referee. I didn't blame Mostafa though- the tail of his broom had been lit on fire by one of the veela.

Ron called for a timeout, complaining as he caught sight of Krum. He was still on his broom but his nose was bleeding profusely and, judging from my Omnioculars, broken.

A flash of green darted in my peripheral vision and I grinned as Harry shouted, "Look at Lynch!"

The Irish seeker was speeding downwards and I could see a glint of gold close to the ground, right above the fighting veela, leprechauns, and Ministry wizards. This was no Wronski Feint and the crowd knew it.

My respect for Krum grew when he seemed to realize what was happening and shot downward, following Lynch. It was impressive that he could see through the blood that had surely gotten into his eyes.

Before I knew it, Krum was level with Lynch. Both seekers pressed themselves against their Firebolts, trying to get as much speed as possible from their brooms.

"They're going to crash!" Hermione shrieked beside me.

"They're not!" Ron roared in response.

"Lynch is!" Harry countered.

I winced when Harry's prediction became reality and my friend crashed into the ground with another resounding thud. I winced again when he was jumped on by numerous and angry veela.

"The snitch, where's the snitch?" Charlie shouted, echoed by the other hundred thousand witches and wizards in the stadium. I was about to join the inquiry when I saw a figure clad in scarlet rising into the air, his fist closed around a glint of gold.

"He's got it- Krum's got it!" I shouted, echoed by Harry.

The scoreboard flashed to accommodate the new event, proudly displaying BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170. The crowd realized what happened slowly. The normal dull roar grew into a mess of shouting voices and screams of victory.

"IRELAND WINS!" Ludo finally shouted. Like most of the Irish supporters, he seemed very surprised at the turnout. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH, BUT IRELAND WINS- good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!" The twins' victorious grins argued that.

"What did he catch the snitch for?" Ron lamented. "He ended it when the Irish were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"He wanted to end the game on his own terms," I chided. "Mullet, Moran, and Troy are too good for Zograf and Krum knew it. It was better for the Bulgarian team to lose by a narrow margin than get slaughtered."

"He looks a terrible mess," Hermione said quietly as mediwizards rushed Krum. He was still bloody and his nose was definitely crooked. Even though he must have been in pain, he refused to let the mediwizards clean him up. The scowl on his face was more prominent than ever. On the other side of the field, the Irish team was already celebrating, dancing in a shower of gold coins thrown by their mascots.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," Mr. Oblanski said in English. Fudge sputtered.

"You- You can speak English!" he stuttered, sounding outraged. Mr. Oblanski chuckled. "You've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Vell, it vos very funny," Mr. Oblanski shrugging, a smirk pulling at his lips.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup is brought into the Top Box!" roared Ludo.

A bright light filled the box as it was illuminated so that the people in the stands could see inside. Fudge, still looking rather disgruntled, took the large World Cup from two panting wizards.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers- Bulgaria!" Ludo shouted. The crowd was clapping and cheering as the seven players entered the box. They each shook hands first with Mr. Oblanski and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, was still scowling, the snitch still caught in his grasp.

Next came the Irish team. Lynch was being supported on either side by Moran and Connolly, his eyes slightly unfocused but the grin evident on his face as Mullet and Quigley lifted the Cup for the crowd below to see. I found myself hugging Troy, shouting congratulations before they left to perform another lap of honor.

Ludo cancelled the charm that magnified his voice and turned back to us.

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely. "A really unexpected twist, that... shame it didn't last longer... Ah yes, I owe you... how much?" he asked as Fred and George scrambled over the backs of their seats, their hands outstretched.

I soon followed them, ready to pick up my own winnings.


A/N:

It's a good sized chapter, I think :)

By the way, if you even vaguely wanted to read my rewritten copy of the story (it's called The Mummy Find), PM me and I'll email you a copy :)

PS: because this is a fansite, I'm going to say right now that I don't expect any money from this, so it isn't really advertising. More like getting the word out.

^.^ Susie ^.^