Chapter Twenty-Five
Clutching their purchases, Arthur in the lead, they all hurried through the woods to the stadium. Even though the kids had already seen the stadium earlier it was even more amazing now with all the lights everywhere and the crowds of wizards streaming into it. Harry practically stopped in his tracks when he saw it all. If it hadn't been for Severus' arm laying gently around his waist he probably would have turned around and ran from it all.
"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."
They climbed the purple carpeted stairs along with the other witches and wizards. Slowly the crowds around them began to thin until they were the only ones still going up. Finally though they reached the top and stepped out into a small box situated precisely between the two sets of goal rings. There were twenty gold and purple seats in two rows. The Weasleys all filed into the first row while Harry went into the second row with Severus, Draco and Blaise.
Shortly after they'd reached the box, Cedric and his father joined them. They took the remaining two seat in the first row. Gradually the box began to fill around them. A man brought in ten more seats which quickly filled with Ministry officials. Harry only knew they were Ministry officials because Percy kept jumping up from his seat to greet them all. Some of the officials were from the Bulgarian Ministry including the Bulgarian Minister of Magic who arrived with Minister Fudge.
"Harry it's been a while. I hope you've been having a good summer." Minister Fudge greeted Harry warmly.
"Very good summer Minister." Harry replied kindly as he shook the man's hand.
"Ah, and here's Lucius!" Harry and Draco both paled when they saw the blonde man accompanied by an equally blonde woman step into the box.
"Ah, Fudge," said Lucius, 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 my son, Draco?" He motioned over to Draco who was now standing between Harry and his father.
"How do you do?" Fudge said 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?"
Lucius regarded Arthur and the Weasleys with disdain before his eyes reached Hermione. His lip curled in disgust but he didn't comment since Fudge was standing right beside him. He just turned back to regard Arthur and nodded tersely to him.
"Good Lord Arthur," He said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"
Fudge who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's, Arthur. He's here as my guest."
"How – how nice," said Arthur, with a very strained smile.
"Ah, Amos. I didn't know you'd gotten seats in the Top Box." Fudge remarked as he noticed the Diggorys at the end of the first row.
"Harry here invited my son and I since he had two extra tickets. This is my son Cedric." Amos answered while introducing his son to the minister.
"That was very charitable of you Mr. Potter." Lucius said with a forced smile. "Severus my old friend. I didn't know you'd gotten tickets to the World Cup as well. How did you pull this one?"
"I figured that my godfather deserved to attend the World Cup with me." Harry replied before Severus could. "He's done so much for me so it's the least I could do for him."
"Harry baby sit down. The match is going to start soon." Blaise said as he gently placed his hand on Harry's arm. He could feel Harry's magic and anger beginning to rise.
"Thanks." Harry whispered as he took his seat and rested his head on Blaise's shoulder.
"Everyone ready?" Ludo asked, running into the box. "Minister –ready to go?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.
Ludo whipped out his wand and pointed it at his throat and said 'Sonorus!' and then began to speak over the roar of the crowd.
"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 all over the stadium adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. A huge blackboard opposite the Top Box cleared away it's final ad 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 block of scarlet, roared its approval. Down on the field a hundred veela were gliding into the middle of the field. Most of the males around Harry were straining to look over the edge of the box down at the veela. Harry peered down to the field as well but couldn't figure out what had everyone so entranced. To him it was just a bunch of very pale woman dancing around. When the veela stopped dancing the stadium filled with many angry yells.
"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 post. A rainbow arched suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a firework display. The rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited to form 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.
"Excellent!" Ron yelled as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, Harry realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.
"Leprechauns!" Arthur said over the tumultuous applause of the crowd.
The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side of 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 – Dimitrove! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand – Krum!"
"That's him, that's him!" Ron yelled, following Krum with his Omnioculars. Harry quickly focussed his own.
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 only eighteen.
"And now, please greet – the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting – Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand – Lynch!"
Seven green blurs swept onto the field; Harry spun a small dial on the side of his Omnioculars and slowed the players down enough to read the word "Firebolt" on each of their brooms and see their 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 bald wizard with a huge mustache walked onto the field. A sliver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large crate under one arm and his broom under the other. Harry spun the speed dial on his Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open – four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.
"Theeeeeeeeeeeey're OFF!" Bagman screamed before Harry tuned him out to focus solely on the match.
The match was nothing like the ones at Hogwarts. Everything was five times faster and also a lot more brutal. Many times Harry had to place his hands comfortingly on Ginny or Hermione's shoulders when one of the players got hurt. The two seekers were the ones to get the most hurt. Lynch because he kept falling for Krum's feints while Krum just got hit a few times in the face by the Bludgers. Eventually though the stadium was on their feet as Krum and Lynch both dove for the Snitch. Lynch crashed once more but Krum pulled out of the dive fast enough holding the Snitch above his head. The scoreboard read BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170.
"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, 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?" 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!"
"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 own terms, that's all….."
"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land in a swarm of Mediwizards, "He looks a terrible mess…."
Harry looked through his Omnioculars to get a better look at Krum. He looked surlier then ever and refused to let the mediwizards mop him up. His team members were around him shaking their heads and looking dejected: a short distance away the Irish team 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.
"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind Harry. He 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.
"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.
The Top Box suddenly was illuminated and Harry had to squint to see anything. Two men came into the box carrying a vast golden cup and handed it to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd 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 stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively. 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 Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. Harry noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.
And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the last 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 it's approval. Harry's hands were numb with clapping.
a/n: Sorry for the long gap in updates. Life got in the way. I have a few more chapters finished that I will be working on posting in the next week or so.