I've returned . . . again! Anyway I've used some lines from the movie and mixed it with the book in this chapter. (Mostly because I love a certain person getting nailed with a specific cane . . . ) But anywho, yes Harmony's heart just got broken, but never fear—there will be someone else. Ummm anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and if you feel so inclined you could leave a few word of encouragement, or a couple questions, or even some criticism if the moment prompts you to.

The Match

Harmony stared after Cedric and sighed the tears now stinging in the corners of her eyes. She hated crying, especially where people could see her. She tried unsuccessfully to wipe away the offending moisture leaking from her eyes. She decided that she should probably head back to the tent as dusk was falling fast and despite her recent drop in mood, she still didn't want to miss the match or worry the others. She took a deep shaky breath and started walking, praying she would not meet anyone she knew on her way back so she could have a little time to compose herself before she had to face her friends and family again.

She was unfortunately not successful in her endeavor and shortly after leaving the place of her encounter with Cedric ran into Harry, Ron, and Hermione who were out buying match merchandise.

"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Harmony heard Ron saying as she neared them.

She suffered a moment of indecision, she knew that Harry and Hermione would pick up on her changed mood if not the slight redness that Harmony was sure was tinting her eyes. She was just about to dart into the crowd to avoid them when Harry called to her.

"Where did you disappear to?"

"Nowhere in particular." Harmony said a little shakier than usual; running a quick hand over her eyes to wipe away any stray moisture.

"What, do you go exploring all by yourself now?" Ron said, slapping his newly bought dancing shamrock hat on his head.

"I've always explored on my own at least a little." Harmony said, folding her arms over her chest.

"Oh that's right, because you always go looking for trouble." said Ron winking.

"Ronald Weasley, I swear I'll . . . " Harmony said playfully, smiling despite herself.

She spent the rest of the time distracting herself buying souvenirs with Ron, Harry, and Hermione. By the time they had gone back to the tent she had ended up with a shimmering shamrock clip for her hair, an Ireland scarf, Omnioculars since Harry had bought one for each of them, and a green rosette and scarf for her godfather.

"I see you've spent your lot." Lupin said as he fingered the shamrock in her hair.

Harmony laughed then asked, "Didn't you get anything?"

"No, why would I need anything?" He asked.

"Good thing I think ahead," she said handing him the green rosette and draping the scarf around his neck.

Lupin eyed her disapprovingly, "Harmony—"

"Don't," she said holding a hand up. "The rosette may be frivolous, but it's for memories sake. And the scarf is useful. It's always cold at home when it gets dark; it will keep you warm." She said.

Lupin rolled his eyes and hugged her. "Did I ever tell you how glad I am to be here with you?'

"No, but I don't think I said it either." Harmony said, snuggling into his warmth. "Promise we'll do more stuff like this, more things . . . together, I mean."

"We have so many years to do them in Little One, now that you'll always be with me." He said.

"I like the sound of that . . . always." Harmony said smiling.

"So do I." Lupin said softly.

Then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"That's our cue," Harmony said, letting go and sliding under her godfather's arm.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"

Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; Harmony's grin never left her face. They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on everyone's faces. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again . . . bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and almost as high as you can go."

"What's higher than the Top Box, Dad?" Ginny asked.

"Not much, just some standing spots."

"Can we go see?" Fred and George asked.

"I don't see why not." Mr. Weasley replied.

"We'll go to the Box, Dad, if you don't mind." said Bill, with Charlie and Percy behind him.

"Sure, go on." said Mr. Weasley, ginning.

All the younger Weasley children, plus the two Potters, Lupin, and Hermione all continued their climb to the very top.

"Blimey Dad, how far up are we?" Ron said in awe.

"Well, put it this way. If it rains . . . you'll be the first to know." said a snide drawling voice from below them.

They all looked down to see none other than Lucius Malfoy and his son Draco standing below them. Draco's pale pointed face was twisted in glee, most likely because his two most favorite enemies were right in front of him, primed for taunting. His father, however mostly the same in physical appearance, was holding himself in a much more dignified, but no less annoying manner.

"My parent's and I are in the Minister's Box," began Draco as he moved up more stairs. "By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself."

"Don't boast, Draco." said Lucius, as he flipped his cane and thumped his Son in the chest. "There's no need with these people."

Harmony tried to keep her sniggering hidden because of the look on the younger Malfoy's face after being hit by his father, but was pretty unsuccessful.

"We'll see you there then," said Harmony grinning. "As that's where we are sitting as well."

"Good lord, Arthur," Lucius said, "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched that much?"

Harry, Harmony, Hermione, and Lupin had to do their best to keep the younger Weasley's from diving over the side of the railing at the Malfoys. During their struggle the older Malfoy had caught sight of both Hermione and Lupin and his lip was now curling in a rather ugly fashion.

"I expect it's beneficial that the weather is so—optimal—tonight." He said sneering as he glanced toward the moon and then back at Lupin.

This time everyone had to hold Harmony back to keep her from tearing both Malfoys limb from limb. Lupin said nothing, only glared, for which Harmony was proud of him.

"Keep walking, kids. Remus, help me." Mr. Weasley said, trying to herd them along.

All of them started to move, Harmony shot one last death glare back at the Malfoys and turned to go, her hand still on the rail. Suddenly she felt the wind rush and heard a thud as something made impact right beside her hand. Harry was suddenly by her side and Lupin was turned around a short way off, hand on his wand. All of them were looking at Mr. Malfoy and the cane he held with the snake fangs boring into the wood, right beside Harmony's hand.

"Do enjoy yourself, won't you? While you can." He said pointedly to Harry and Harmony with a snide smile.

He pulled the cane out of the wood with a flourish and both Malfoy's headed on their way toward the Top Box. As soon as they had gone Lupin rushed to Harmony's side.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. He was just trying to scare me, that's all." Harmony said pulling her hand off the rail.

"If it weren't illegal to kill . . ." Lupin said, staring after the Malfoy's.

"Well brace yourself, we're going to have to see more of them." Harmony said continuing the walk.

"Suddenly I'm not so excited for our seats." Lupin said, putting a hand on each of Harmony's arms and standing behind her as if to shield her.

After their journey to the very top, the little band ended up in the Top Box. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and they all filed into the front seats, looking down upon the scene, which was no less incredible then what they had seen at the top. Harmony watched the gold advertisements fly across the blackboard, until her brother muttered an unexpected name.

"Dobby?"

He was looking at the second to last seat in the row behind them and sure enough there was a house elf, but not Dobby.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. Its voice was higher even than Dobby's had been, a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, the voice of a female. Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats to look. Though they had heard a lot about Dobby from the twins they had never actually met him. Even Mr. Weasley and Lupin looked around in interest.

"Sorry," Harry told the elf, "I just thought you were someone I knew."

"But I knows Dobby too, sir!" squeaked the elf. She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light though the Top Box was not brightly lit. "My name is Winky, sir—and you, sir—" Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry.

"But Dobby talks of you and your sister all the time, sir!" she said, lowering her hands very slightly to look at Harmony as well.

"How is he?" Harmony asked.

"How's freedom suiting him?" Harry finished.

"Ah, sir and miss." Said Winky, shaking her head, "meaning no disrespect, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor when you is setting him free,"

"Why?" Harry said, taken aback. "What's wrong with him?"

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

"Why not?" Harmony asked.

Winky lowered her voice by a half-octave and whispered, "He is wanting paying for his work, miss."

"Paying?" said Harry blankly. "Well—why shouldn't he be paid?"

Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so that her face was half hidden again.

"House-elves is not paid, sir!" she said in a muffled squeak. "No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."

"Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun," said Harry.

"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter, said Winky firmly, from behind her hands. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter"—she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped—"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?" said Harry, frowning.

"Master—master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy." said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again. Harmony and Harry turned back to the others.

"So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered. "Weird things, aren't they?'

"Dobby was weirder," Harmony said.

Harmony turned to her godfather who was looking out over the field, deep in thought.

"Hey," Harmony said gently brushing his arm. "Why so quiet?"

"Just thinking of our encounter with Mr. Malfoy." Lupin said.

"What he said? The whole "While you can" thing?"

"Yes,"

"Don't worry about it. It doesn't mean anything, he's been saying stuff like that to me and Harry for years and we haven't died yet."

"But you've come close."

"He was just trying to scare me, besides, what can he know that we don't?"

Lupin gave her a stern look.

"All right, I get it. Can we just not worry about it for like, five hours? Can we just have fun at the match and let it all be for a while? I just want to feel a little normal. For five hours can I just be a young teenage girl who is at a Quidditch match with her family and friends, please?"

"Okay, I'll let it be."

"Thank you." Harmony said, turning just in time to see Percy bow so low that his glasses fell off and shattered.

"That must be Fudge," Harmony said, standing up.

Cornelius Fudge came and greeted Harry and Harmony like old friends. They had met before, and Fudge shook their hands in a fatherly fashion, asked how they were, and introduced them to the wizards on either side of him.

"The Potters, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English. "The Potters . . . oh come on now, you know who they are . . . the boy and girl who survived You-Know-Who . . . you do know who he is—"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to the twins. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat . . . Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places . . . ah and here's Lucius!"

Somehow the Malfoy's had gotten behind them, or perhaps left and come back. At any rate the father and son were now accompanied by a woman, who Harmony could only assume was Mrs. Malfoy. She was also blonde; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose, but Harmony didn't expect anything different as she had seen that look on her husband and son's faces many times before. They were all edging along the second row to three empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley.

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "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?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk—Obalonsk—Mr.—well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and 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?"

Everyone in the group tensed as if ready for a fight, Fudge sensed the tension and moved on. "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."

That did not surprise Harmony in the slightest, the Malfoys always had the tendency to buy their way into things.

"How—how nice." Mr. Weasley said, with a very strained smile.

Mr. Malfoy nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and continued down the line to his seats. Draco shot Harry, Ron, Harmony, and Hermione one contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father.

"Slimy gits," Ron muttered as they turned to face the field again.

"Sometimes, I'd like to repeat that day last year where my fist met his face." Harmony said.

Just then, Ludo Bagman charged into the box.

"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister—ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, 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. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was whipped clear of its last message and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce . . . the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid black of scarlet, roared its approval.

"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!' He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. 'Veela!"

"What are veel—?" Harry began to ask.

But a hundred vela were now gliding out onto the field, and Harry's question was answered for him. Veela were women . . . except that they were too beautiful and definitely not human.

Harmony watched the looks on all the males around her as they went into a complete stupor as the veela started to dance. Harry stood up near the end and put a leg over the box.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked.

Ron looked like he was going to jump onto the field and Lupin was leaning a considerable distance out of his seat. Then the music stopped and they realized what was happening. Angry yells were filling the stadium. The crowd didn't want the veela to go.

Harmony rolled her eyes.

"Males." She muttered, then she was playfully punched in the arm by her godfather. "What? Ron's over there shredding his hat, Harry's about to jump onto the field, and you're transfigured."

"You've got a point." Lupin said, sighing.

Harmony nodded.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice. "kindly put your wands in the air . . . for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, commenting the two balls of light. The crowd ooohed and aaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now 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. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it—

"Gold?" Harmony said looking at Lupin.

"From the looks of it." Lupin smiled.

Harmony looked into the shamrock and saw thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

"Leprechauns? Ingenious." Harmony said.

Lupin nodded as the shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field 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 it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robbed player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaaand—Krum!"

"They have some pretty interesting names—" Harmony commented watching the young Seeker on the field.

Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was just eighteen.

"I see you've taken particular interest in the Seeker? What Cedric off your mind?" Lupin teased.

"I'm not interested in Krum that way and—" Harmony sighed. "We'll talk about Cedric later."

Lupin was about to ask questions when Bagman interrupted.

"And now, please greet—the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting—Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaaand—Lynch!"

Seven green blurs swept onto the field. Harmony held up her Omnioculars and read each of the players names embroidered in silver upon their backs.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A small skinny wizard, completely bald but with a mustache to rival Uncle Vernon's, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. Harmony watched through her Omnioculars as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open—four balls burst into the air; the scarlet Quaffle, the two back Bludgers, and the minuscule winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"Theeeeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

It was Quidditch as Harmony had never seen it played before. She watched in awe as the Chasers threw the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman could barely get out names. She spun her Omnioculars to slow on and off, just to catch the names of the plays that were used. She pulled out a pad of paper from her pocket and a Muggle pen and jotted down plays like: Hawkshead Attacking Formation and Porskoff Ploy. With each name she jotted down a very quick and simple diagram of the play so she could show her fellow Chasers during the year. She looked up just in time to see Troy score.

"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten to zero Ireland!"

"Ugh, I didn't see half that play." Harmony cried exasperated.

"Maybe you should try just enjoying yourself instead of trying to write down every single play. I'm sure you'll remember the best ones." Lupin said.

Harmony looked down at the pad of paper and realized her godfather was right and she slipped it back into her pocket a little reluctantly.

It was no wonder Harmony was taking notes as the Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves. And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters.

The match became still 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!" bellowed Mr. Weasley as the veela started to dance in celebration.

Harmony watched as Bulgaria took possession of the Quaffle once more.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova—oh I say!" roared Bagman.

Harmony looked to see the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummet through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. Harmony looked for the Snitch—

"They're going to crash!" screamed Hermione from the other side of Harry.

She was half right—at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"Wow, that was brilliant. Dirty, but brilliant." Harmony said.

"That's Quidditch." Harry said, while still staring through his Omnioculars obviously watching the play again.

"You should use that." Harmony said.

"Don't worry, I will."

"Just make sure it's Malfoy who ends up in the ground." Harmony said softer.

"Done." Harry replied, smiling.

After fifteen more fast and furious 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 toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly Harmony didn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told her it had been 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!"

Harmony looked on the field to see "HA, HA, HA!" formed in the air by the leprechauns. Then watched the veela on the other side of the field leap to their feet, toss their hair angrily, and start to dance again.

"Really?" Harmony said in disbelief. "Come on, that's cheap."

She realized that she was talking to nobody because everyone but Hermione and Ginny had their ears plugged and they were too far away to hear at normal voice levels.

Harmony watched and laughed as the referee landed in front of the dancing veela and began flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"

Mostafa got a kick in the shins by a mediwizard and then began yelling at the offending veela who now looked mutinous.

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

It did, so ugly that Ireland received two penalties over mascots because the Bulgarian Beaters couldn't let it alone.

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green.

"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!"

"It's times like this that I wish you didn't play Quidditch." Lupin said quietly.

"Why?" Harmony asked.

"I'm afraid the young Malfoy boy might be taking notes on how to best try to kill you."

Harmony laughed. "He wouldn't get away with it. Dumbledore saved me from the worst possible fall a person could have last year."

"I guess you're right."

Harmony looked back to the field just in time to see the veela throwing handfuls of what looked like fire at the leprechauns. The veela's form seemed to be changing. Their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders—

"And that, boys," yelled Mr. Weasley overt the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never to for looks alone!'

Harmony laughed while watching the Quaffle change hands at lightning speed.

"Levski—Dimitrov—Moran—Troy—Mullet—Ivanova—Moran again—Moran—MORAN SCORES!"

The game resumed quickly Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov—

The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

Harmony winced as she saw all the blood coming from Krum's nose. It looked painful, and worse the referee wasn't noticing. He was too distracted by the veela's rage.

"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him—" Ron said when no whistles were blown.

"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled.

Harmony looked over to see that Lynch had suddenly gone into a dive, and Harmony was pretty sure this wasn't a fake.

"He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"

The Irish were screaming for their Seeker, but Krum was right behind him, blood and all. Harmony had no idea how Krum could see at all. She watched as he drew level with Lynch while they hurtled toward the ground.

"They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione again.

"No way!" Harmony yelled.

"Lynch is!" yelled Harry.

And he was right—for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, along the row.

"He's got it—Krum's got it—it's all over!" shouted Harry.

Krum, his 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: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "KRUM CATCHES THE SNITCH—BUT IRELAND WINS—good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"Except for Fred and George, and partially me, of course." Harmony commented to the others, grinning.

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"No he's brilliant—" Harmony began.

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harry shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "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, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get o him. "He looks a terrible mess . . . "

Harmony looked through her Omnioculars to see Krum, surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from their mascots. Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind them. Harmony looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Vell, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging.

Harmony turned to Harry and the others and they all began to laugh.

"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!" roared Bagman.

Harmony's eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see inside. Squinting toward the entrance, she saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he's been using sign language all day for nothing.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers—Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.

And up the stair into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; Harmony could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked like a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. Harmony noticed that his coordination was much less sufficient on the ground, but that didn't seem to bother the crowd because Krum got a resounding, earsplitting roar.

And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. Harmony's hands were numb with clapping.

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms, with Lynch on the back on Connolly's, Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered. "Quietus."

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that . . . shame it couldn't have lasted longer . . . Ah yes . . . yes, I owe you . . . how much?"

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.