Order of the Otter

by x-eleven

What if Harry's upbringing by the Dursleys had been more normal and accepting? How would his relationship with Dumbledore be different?

28. Quiddich World Cup Summer

Quidditch World Cup Summer

Beaux Batons

Madam Maxime was meeting with Harry, Hermione, and Fleur. She looked over the top of the letter Madam Bones sent.

"Mr. Potter, vhat am I to do vith you? If 'Ogwarts still means so much to you, vhy don't you ask your parents to enroll you there?"

"What would you have me do? Ignore Hagrid's letter? Just let Buckbuck die when I knew how to prevent it?"

"Vhy didn't you come to see me first? Vhere you so convinced I vould not approve?"

"I received the letter just in the nick of time. We barely got there ahead of the Ministry's executioner".

"Vhat did you do at 'Ogwarts?"

"It will be coming out in the news soon, until then, I can't talk about it".

"I see… You can go".

Harry and the others made to leave too.

"Not you, 'Ermione and Fleur. I am not done vith you".

"Ma'am?", Hermione asked.

"The both of you left campus vithout permission. This is not allowed, and you vill be in detention for the rest of the term. I am responsible, and vhat am I to say 'ad you come to a bad end?"

"Yes, Ma'am", Hermione said.

"Vhat about Quiddich?", Fleur asked.

"No Quiddich for either of you until your detentions are complete".

"Yes, Ma'am"

"I'm team captain...", Fluer began to protest.

"Appoint a successor".

"Yes, Ma'am"

Outside Ottery St Mary

Peter Pettigrew had a rough time after his narrow escape from the Burrow. Rats were hibernating in their dens. He was out in the cold, standing out in sharp relief against the white snow, an open invitation to become a fox's or owl's next meal. He dare not show his face in human form, not so close to the scene of the crime. Of that, he had no doubt. It was bad enough, knowing that he'd lost his ace in the hole: his being an unregistered animagus.

He spent most of his time hiding in muggle homes and businesses in Ottery St Catchpole. Still, mouldy cheese from rat traps, not as satisfying as the rodent pellets Ron fed him (not that these were so wonderful). Sometimes, he'd get lucky and find unguarded bags of pet food in basements, kitchens, and cupboards. He knew he couldn't hang around too long, however, as the people living there would suspect they had a rat problem. Warmer weather meant moving on, he followed the Otter River to the coast. There, hitched a ride across the Channel to the Continent. He still dare not transform, even here. Next, it was a matter of finding lorries headed east.

London: Knockturn Alley:

Albus stopped by one of the street vendors who were a common sight here. He hoped his being here would not be mentioned, because there was no chance he wouldn't be noticed.

"Hello Mundungus", he greeted, "I've been looking for you".

"What brings you to around here? Mefinks dis ain no social call?"

"No, Mundungus, it's not", Albus explained.

"I was afeared o' dat", he said. "Whass dis gonna coss me?"

"Nothing more than your time, and you shall be well compensated for your service. More lucrative than selling stolen goods..."

"I ain stole nuttin'! Awl dese goods're legit!"

"I'm sure that's the official story, but I'm not here on behalf of the DMLE. I need your special kind of expertise".

"I ain signin' on fer nuttin that'll get me killt, is I?"

"Nothing like that, walk with me and I shall explain everything".

Mundungus Fletcher was a petty criminal who made his living hawking items acquired by means not exactly legal. Albus had once saved him from doing a number in Azkaban, and recruited him into the Order as one who moved in the circles the more respectable members could not, who would hear news of Voldemort the others did not.

London: Ministry of Magic

Walden MacNair named his associates under veritas, detailing the crimes they'd committed for Voldemort. Amelia Bones arranged for a sweep of arrests of the named suspects. A special session of the Wizengamot met in the Old Courtroom in the sub-basement where the lifts didn't reach. It was her desire to keep these proceedings as quiet as possible for as long as possible.

Edmond Parkinson had been picked up right at the Ministry. Two aurors showed up at his office, requesting they come with him. Before the Wizengamot, he was defiant.

"Are you a Death Eater?", he was asked after the administration of veritas potion.

"Of course I am! I have always been a faithful servant of the Dark Lord, and damn proud of it! Just who the hell are you to judge me? We were working on your behalf so that we magi can take our rightful places in this world as the superiors of these muggles. No more hiding in the shadows".

"That's quite enough. Your name has come up in connection with a murder investigation. Have you ever committed murder in the service of Hewhomustnotbenamed?"

"Show some respect and refer to our Dark Lord. Yes, that's how you earn his Dark Mark: you have to make your bones, show you will hold back nothing in his service. We were paid a bounty of 1,000 galleons for every muggle carcass we turned over to the Dark Lord".

"For what purpose?"

"He never said and we never asked. That's how I paid my daughter's way through Hogwarts".

"You have no regrets, no remorse?"

"Why should I? It was for our Dark Lord".

"Who were your associates?"

One name stood out: Lucius Malfoy.

"One final question: did you take the Dark Mark willingly?"

"Of course I did"

"Edmond Parkinson, you will be remanded to your cell while the Wizengamot deliberates.

"Bring in the next prisoner", Cornelius Fudge, acting justice called out.

"Lucius Malfoy, take the stand", the bailiff announced.

"I protest this treatment, being dragged out of my own bed in the middle of the night".

"Your protest is duly noted, Mr. Malfoy, if you would? We can do this the easy way, or the hard way", Cornelius Fudge said.

"Fine", he said as he took the seat facing the Wizengamot.

"If you please", another bailiff brought a silver tray with a crystal wine glass, and a large glass of water. He swallowed the horrible tasting veritas potion in one gulp, and washed it down with the water.

It must've been an unusually stiff does, as Lucius became barely aware of his surroundings. No way to resist.

"Would you state your name for the record".

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy".

"Let's cut to the chase, are you a Death Eater?"

"No".

There was much buzz around the Chamber.

"If I may", Madam Bones interrupted the special councilor.

"I yield to Madam Bones".

"Are you aware that veritas has an antidote?"

"Of course, it's hardly a secret".

"Do you have any in your possession?"

"No, but you would expect that answer if I had taken it".

"There are blood tests", she reminded. "Would you roll up your sleeves?"

He did so, and the buzz increased in volume. There was no trace of the Dark Mark. Some stood to get a better view, but it was the same: no Dark Mark.

"Do you know any spell that can remove the Dark Mark?"

"No". This was a literal truth since he didn't speak Otterish. That question came dangerously close to the truth though. "No one does, otherwise a lot of the Dark Lord's followers would have gotten rid of theirs, wouldn't they?"

"Why do you refer to Hewhomustnotbenamed as 'Dark Lord'? Isn't that what his followers call him as a sign of respect?"

"It's just how I speak".

"Do you have some sympathies with Voldemort?"

"Yes, of course I do".

"And what may those be?"

"I believe it is vital to preserve our pure blood lines to preserve our traditions, our culture, and our way of life".

"Even though you admitted that the muggle-borm Hermione Granger is as capable as any pure blood magician?"

"Yes, Miss Granger will also bring with her her muggle ways. How could she not? This is why I believe only those of pure blood should be running our government".

"If you feel that way, then why didn't you join Voldemort?"

"There is a right way, and a wrong way, and Voldemort's way was wrong. He wanted the complete subjugation of the muggle population. Let muggles go their way, and let us go ours. It's worked ever since the Secrecy Statute passed three hundred years ago. I see no reason why we can't go on living side-by-side".

"Have you financially supported Voldemort's efforts?"

"I have not".

"Yet, during our interrogations, your name keeps coming up, over and over: care to explain?"

"I would only be speculating".

"Proceed"

"Maybe because of my wife's sister, Bellatrix Lastrange. You won't find a more fanatical supporter. Maybe it's because Voldemort's followers were always asking for support, politically as well as financially, because I almost took the Dark Mark. Other than that, I have no idea".

"Have you ever committed a murder, or any other crime to further Voldemort's rise to power?"

"I have not".

"You have been seen in the company of known Death Eaters. The row Christmas before last with Edmond Parkinson, what was that about?"

"So have lots of others. It's unavoidable, there are many employees of the Ministry who have been cleared of any wrong-doing after taking the Dark Mark.

"Edmond accused me of betraying Voldemort. I reminded him that there's no betrayal if there never was any support in the first place. He got unnecessarily unpleasant about it, so I asked him to leave, which he did".

"What else did he want?"

"He wanted some book Bellatrix once had and left to me before she went off to Azkaban".

"What book?"

"I don't recall exactly, just some rather plain, unremarkable black leather book, so I gave it to him. That's all".

"This book: might it have been a diary?"

"Could have been, I don't remember as I hadn't taken a close look at it in years. I forgot I even had it".

"Care to explain why you've been acting so guilty all these years?"

"How do you mean?"

"Why, up till now, have you been so evasive about Voldemort and your involvement with the Death Eaters?"

"That matter was settled a long time ago, so why would I dignify these baseless accusations by answering them?"

"It wasn't really settled, was it? You never testified in a court of law".

"It was to my satisfaction".

One of the Potions Specialists from the Auror Corps: "I need a few drops of blood", as he had a stick pin. He pricked Malfoy's finger, squeezed out a few drops onto parchment. He added a drop of potion, and waited.

"I detect no trace of the antidote. Mr. Malfoy is well under the effects of veritas".

"Thank you, that will be all", Fudge announced. "You will be remanded to your cell while the Wizengamot deliberates".

4 Privet Drive

"All packed?", Vernon asked.

"I can't think of anything else", Harry said.

"Me neither", Dudley agreed.

"Then let's be off to Heathrow. Don't want to miss our flight".

"What about Hedwig?", Dudley asked.

"I've sent him over to the Burrow. Arthur and Molly will look after him while we're gone. He wasn't too happy about that, but he understands. I'm not expecting I'll be receiving any owlposts. I can send back pictures and post cards after we're home".

This year, Vernon and Petunia decided to take their holiday in Majorca between the time Harry and Dudley left school for the summer, and before Harry's summer school started. The summer was getting off to a good start, Harry had received word from Amelia Bones that his godfather would be getting the trial he'd been owed for almost as long as Harry had been alive.

London: Ministry of Magic

"All rise, the Wizengamot is now in session"

"Defendant Malfoy", Fudge began, "it has been decided that there is no basis for conviction. You are free to go. I will remind you once again, that you are not to discuss these proceedings with outsiders under penalty of law".

"I understand".

"Your wand and personal effects will be waiting for you at the security kiosk".

It had been a close decision. There were all those claims by other Death Eaters that Lucius Malfoy had been one of their number, that he had been well within the Dark Lord's inner circle, that he had participated in their crimes. However, the evidence was incontrovertible: he did not wear the Dark Mark, he had proclaimed his innocence while undoubtedly under the influence of veritas potion, he had not somehow taken the antidote.

He was thankful that Madam Bones had not asked the right questions, such as if he knew about spells that could remove the Dark Mark. He would have had to answer in the affirmative, and likely explain the reversal spell needed to be cast in Otterish, not any human language.

The nine other defendants weren't so fortunate,

"After considering all relevant evidence and testimony, we find you guilty as charged. It is the judgment of the Wizengamot that you be taken to the Death Chamber to be sent trough the Veil".

The Death Chamber was one part of the Department of Mysteries, overseen by the Unspeakables. The Death Chamber was a large auditorium with stone bleachers rising tier upon tier up to about six meters above a central stone dais. The only feature in the center of the room was an ancient stone pointed arch, so cracked and crumbly that it was a miracle it stood at all. A black curtain covered the opening. This curtain constantly fluttered as though with a gentle breeze, though the air was still and a bit stagnant. This chamber was dedicated to the study of the mystery of death. It was said that sometimes some people could hear indistinct voices on the other side of the veil, which separated the land of the living and the dead.

The Ministry didn't have capital punishment, at least not officially. Sending the guilty prisoners through the veil wasn't exactly considered execution, per se. It was, however, a one-way trip. Edmond Parkinson was one of the few who went through on his own two feet.

"When the Dark Lord returns, I shall be avenged! You will regret you ever dared raise a hand against his devoted followers. When he gets his hands on you, you will be begging him for death!"

Most had to be forcefully thrown through the veil. The word of the prosecutions quickly got out, and Death Eaters started pouring out of the country. Others went underground. Fudge was beginning to feel the pressure to order Bones to call off what was described to him as a "witch hunt". The terminology deliberately chosen to evoke unpleasant memories of the Burning Times.

Azkaban Island

"It's standard procedure, Ma'am, I'll need your wand", the guard at the front desk told Amelia Bones.

"That's quite alright, no need to apologize and I am pleased to see you're on your duty", as she handed over her wand.

"You'll get this back on the way out… If you don't mind my asking… why not send a messenger? Why come all this way yourself?"

"He has been waiting for over ten years now for this news. It's too important to leave to some anonymous message runner".

"Someone will be with you directly to escort you. Wear this badge in plain sight at all times so that the Dementors will not confuse you for an escapee".

Coming to Azkaban wasn't one of her favourite things. She wasn't alone in that regard, as the effects of the Dementors could be felt, even before one set foot on the island. Even here, in the reception office, it felt as though every happy thought had been drained from the whole world. Most of the prisoners were, sooner or later, driven insane by that. This also explained the high turn over rate for guards and other employees working on the island.

"Right this way, Ma'am", her escort had arrived.

He led her deep into the cell blocks. He pulled out his wand.

"Stand well back from the door, and don't even think about trying anything Black", he ordered.

"Are you sure about this?', he asked before unlocking the cell door.

"Quite".

"Amelia?", Sirius Black asked.

"I see you remembered", she said as they embraced.

"What brings you? Another inspection?"

"I came to tell you in person that your case has been reopened. You shall have your for all too long now delayed trial, and a chance to clear your name".

"Why now?"

"You can thank your godson. It was his efforts that won you this chance; he has uncovered new evidence that the Wizengamot could no longer ignore. You will be transferred to the Ministry within a few days to await trial".

"That's great news! Did he find..."

"You will find out soon enough".

"So… Amelia… you never settled down?"

"I never did. I guess I got too wrapped up in career to think about that", she explained.

Amelia's visit was a good thing, and a bad thing. The happy news gave the Dementors a new weapon they could use against him, as they preyed on those happy thoughts. He didn't know how long a "few days" might be, but he was certain they would be some of the longest he's spent at Azkaban. Sirius Black was one of the few prisoners to keep his sanity.

London: Ministry of Magic

"Ludo"

"Albus"

"Do you have any news?"

"Only that the Minister is wavering again. First it's on, then it's off..."

"It would seem that is what our Minister is best at", Dumbledore agreed.

"All I can say is he'd best make up his mind, and soon, otherwise we'll have to wait another year".

"I have Igor Karkarov on our side, and he's working on the Bulgarian Minister to work on Cornelius. He should be most persuasive".

"Let us hope so", Ludo agreed.

Albus knew everything depended on a successful World Cup. That would hold a lot of sway with Minister Fudge.

0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

Peter Pettigrew made his way across Europe, hiding in the backs of lorries, to Albania. He knew the Dark Lord long favoured Albania. It was here that he sought his long banished Master. He had precious little to go on, and figured this is why none of his followers came looking. Here, in the isolation, well away from major cities, he could hold his human form with little possibility he'd be recognized. He met muggle tourists from whom he could bum a meal. He figured his best shot was to make himself visible and hope the Dark Lord, in whatever form he was hiding, might recognize him and reveal himself.

4 Privet Drive

"Off to school soon", Vernon said.

"Don't remind me", Harry complained.

"Now, now, you do want to go to university", Petunia reminded.

"That doesn't stop me from still wanting a whole summer off".

That evening, Harry got a phone call.

"It's for you", Petunia called out, "Mr. Weasley", she said.

"Mr. Weasley?", Harry answered.

"Glad I caught you at home. How was Majorca?"

"It was wonderful as ever. I'll be sending pictures and post cards as soon as I get Hedwig back".

"I guess you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"It's your godfather… He escaped from Azkaban. It's been all over the Prophet, and the Ministry even has the muggle police out looking for him. Madam Bones sent an owlpost, and Hedwig'll be bringing it along".

"He broke out? I thought that was impossible?"

"So did everyone else. The muggle police claim he's a mass murderer, believed to be armed and dangerous. The Prophet's saying much the same thing. I'm sorry Harry".

"He swore he was innocent! I was trying to get him a new trail!"

"I guess he decided he'd rather not take his chances with the Wizengamot. Just be careful".

None of this made any sense. They all knew Wormtail was alive and well, and the belief he'd been dead all these years was a big part of the case against Sirius. The owlpost Hedwig brought when he arrived the next day didn't clarify anything. It was from Madam Bones, informing Harry that Sirius was due to have his day in court within a few days of her sending the letter. Why was Sirius acting like a guilty man all of a sudden?

As for Sirius, he had considerable troubles of his own. Though he could hide from the muggles, being an animagus, that still left the Dementors. They were looking for him, and everyone on Privet Drive knew it. Though the muggle neighbors didn't know, they sure felt the soul-sucking effects. He dare not show up in any form at Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, or anywhere else magi frequented, so that meant no possibility of seeing a copy of the Daily Prophet to see what was going on in the magical world.

Wandering the suburbs, he got lucky: a home with a pet door. Once the owners were out, he slipped inside. Fortunately, their dog was in the back yard. There, he found writing paper, and postage stamps. Muggle post would have to do, and was the least likely means of contacting Harry he knew of that would get him caught, and very likely "kissed".

"How was your vacation?", Hermione asked the first day of summer school.

"Majorca was wonderful as usual", Harry explained.

"I guess you heard about Sirius?", she asked.

"Yes, don't know what that's about, I guess you heard from Ron?"

"He owled me… You heard from him?"

"No, not a word, and quite frankly, I don't care to. He's on his own now, I don't want to discuss it, not after all I did for him".

It finally dawned on her what he meant. There were new kids in class this summer, and some of them looked decidedly out of place. She remembered that last year, the DMLE had aurors on duty.

The post arrived with Harry's name on it, and nothing more than the address: 4 Privet Dr. No return address. Harry used his special wand to cast the silencing charm.

"It's from Sirius, and he wants to meet. Says he'll be waiting at Battersea Park, near the pond. Next Saturday".

"Are you sure this is a good idea?", Vernon asked.

"He is my godfather, and I need to know what's going on here. None of this makes any sense, why he'd run right before he could clear his name".

"How can you be sure? He's been locked up for so long now, there's no telling what he may be up to".

"Right when we know that Wormtail is alive, when he was sent up there mainly because they believed him dead?"

"How do you know these two aren't working together?"

"Not too likely, considering how Wormtail betrayed his trust once before. Breaking the Fidelius that was protecting James and Lily was about as great a betrayal as you could think of. We all heard, Wormtail confessed to betraying James and Lily to save himself. I need your help to help Sirius".

"What can I do?"

"Drop me off at Heathrow, I can take a taxi from there. Get good and lost in the traffic. It's a lot safer than the Knight Bus".

That Saturday, Harry walked along Carriage Dr. E. Sirius said he'd find him, and so he did.

"So here's where you got to boy", he said as he fastened a collar with a leash around the neck of a large black dog. To any observers, it would look like he was looking for a lost dog. Sirius led him to a secluded area, off the nature trails.

Sirius transformed to his human self. He looked like hell.

"Why..."

"Madam Bones came to see me, tell me about the case being reopened. I figured I'd be out in a few days. That's when I was ordered transferred to Solitary, even though I'd done nothing to warrant that. They had me alone there. No food, no water. After a couple of days, I figured I wasn't meant to leave the island alive".

"Who would do a thing like that?"

"I don't know, but there are obviously certain someone's in the Ministry who didn't want me to ever see the light of day. I had to get away, break out".

"How did you manage that?"

"It's the Dementors, their greatest weakness is the lack of normal senses. No sense of sight or hearing. They home in on human emotion. So I transformed into my Padfoot form. When they came to do their rounds, they didn't sense a human presence, so they opened the door to investigate, and I walked out".

"If it was that simple, then why did you stay for so long?"

"I didn't say it was simple by any means. If I'd been caught, that would mean the Kiss, no questions asked. Once you're out of the fortress, you still have to get off the island, and you've seen it: there are no places to hide at all. How long until the human guards knew I was gone?

"I had no choice but to swim for it, hope to get far enough away before I was spotted. I was in the water for two days, no food, no water, and no rest. It was beginning to look like they'd get their wish, that I'd disappear. Fortunately, fishermen on a fishing boat heard my barking, and came to rescue me. That's how I got back to land. I had to escape before they made a pet of me, make my way back to London. It wasn't easy, and I nearly died. I knew my chances were slim, but I'll take slim over none every time, and I figure my chances staying at Azkaban were exactly that: none".

"All those years, how..."

"How did I keep from going mad, you were about to ask?"

"Yes, I've heard stories".

"You see, I knew all along that I was innocent, that a great injustice had been done to me. Those aren't happy thoughts, so the Dementors had nothing to attack, no joy to suck from my mind. They pretty much leave me alone. It was a question of staying sharp, and sometimes a guard would slip me reading material, like copies of the Prophet. It helped greatly to behave myself, give none of the staff any grief".

"You know they're looking for you?"

"I tried to see you, but I sensed the Dementors patrolling the skies above Little Whinging. I figured all your friends were being watched as well. I tried stopping by the old house, but the aurors were watching there as well. So I've been living the life of a stray dog".

"You need a hide out, and I know just the place. I hope Azkaban hasn't made you too rusty".

"Where is this place?"

"It's in North Devon. If you can apparate us there".

"I don't know if I can, as you say, I'm pretty rusty and if you don't do it right..."

"I'll need to find a pay phone, call Uncle Vernon. He could pick us up here. Wait for me".

"Need some help", Harry requested, "I found the lost dog in the park, can you come and get us?"

Harry used code talk in case the muggle police were listening in.

"We need to get to North Devon", Harry explained when Vernon arrived. "I know it's on short notice and all".

"You realize this is at least a six hour trip?"

"I know it's all on such short notice, but it's unavoidable. It's right off the A386, where the highway stops paralleling the river. It'll be past Great Torrington".

"So you're Harry's godfather?"

"WOOF!"

"Pleased to meet you too. I guess we're going to pay Lucius a visit? How do you know where he lives?", Vernon asked.

"Dobby said he lives close to the Canal Bridge in North Devon, so I looked it up just in case. I don't know anyone else who could do anything for us", Harry explained.

"I guess I'd best tell Tunie not to wait supper for us".

Once they were well away from the city, Sirius returned to human form to explain everything that happened since he heard from Amelia.

"You're sure?", Vernon asked. "sure they were going to disappear you?"

"As sure as I can be. I'll tell you this: I wasn't willing to stick around and find out".

"I don't know how you do things in the wizarding world, but the more I learn, the less I like. If I'd only known, I doubt I would have ever allowed Harry to get involved. This is Third World, Banana Republic level bullshit".

The last of the twilight had come by the time they were following the Torridge off to the right. As the highway began to veer from the river: "It'll be on the right", Harry pointed out. Vernon turned off the highway, down a two laner, and across the bridge.

"Stop and let us off. That's the Canal Bridge we just crossed. Lucius' place is to the north", Harry explained. "Just hope we're on the right side of the river. I'm not looking forward to a swim".

"Here? It doesn't look like anything's here", Vernon objected.

"The place is warded; we'll detect the fields", Harry explained.

There was no river bank, as such, but the fields of grass made for an easy passage. About a half mile up the river, the trees began to grow to the river's edge.

"Lumos", Harry lit his special wand.

"Harry!", Sirius began.

"This is a special wand, it doesn't report underage wand magic to the Ministry", Harry explained. "I don't favour a broken ankle", he explained.

"Hell'd you get that?"

"Not from Ollivander, that's for sure".

Past an island that split the river in two, then past a gravel shelf, and into the thickest stand of trees seen so far.

"It's around here", Harry explained even though he wasn't sure what he was looking for.

"Now what?"

"Trip the wards", as Harry came forward, "Hope he notices".

Lucius did indeed notice, and came out to investigate: "Harry?", he asked, "and you brought a guest?"

"Sirius Black", Harry introduced, "my godfather. Uncle Vernon drove us up from London".

"Pleased to meet you...", Sirius began. He figured this was another animagus who, like Pettigrew, preferred this form for whatever reason.

"Lucius Lutra, and yes, I've heard quite a bit about you. I was wondering when you'd come. I get the Prophet delivered. So you're the infamous mass murderer of muggles and the betrayer of the Potter's?"

"I didn't..."

"You need a hide away from the Ministry. You've come to the right place".

"Then you believe me?"

"You'll have to tell me all about it, but why does one whose innocence been all but proved suddenly scarper like he was guilty as charged? I know all about Wormtail and that he's alive and well and was living with the Weasleys. He's alive and well and you're off the hook".

That "place" was an ancient oak that had fallen into the river some years ago. Centuries of spring flooding had washed away the earth and gravel from its roots until it toppled into the river one night during high winds. The old dead wood decaying until the center was hollow: the perfect place for an otter to call home.

"Right this way", Lucius disappeared into the interior of the tree.

Harry and Sirius had to get down and slither through the muck. It was a tight fit, but the inside couldn't have been a greater contrast. There were self-cleaning charms so Harry and Sirius weren't covered in river muck. The upper, dry, part of the holt was a large drawing room with thick, red carpet. Mahogany paneling half way to the ceiling from which hung a crystal chandelier. The walls decorated with those pictures that moved like animated GIFs of otters at play. Tapestries displaying more otters and foxes. No trace of a human presence.

"Welcome to Owlery Holt", Lucius said. "You can make yourself to home here, and the Ministry won't be bothering you so long as you stay here. I hope you like fish".

"I like it just fine".

"Glad to hear it, because that's all I have: fresh caught from the river. By the way, you look like hell warmed over".

"It's been rough", Sirius agreed, "what does 'Owlery Holt' mean anyway?"

"A holt is where otters live. There's a family of owls who nest in the branches above us. When we were little, my two sisters and I used to listen to them all the time..."

"What are you talking about?", Sirius asked.

Lucius explained what he really was, yet again. This is where he was born, three springs ago. Of course, the holt looked nothing like this back then.

"Here's Mother", as he pointed out a picture.

"Sister #1… Sister #2. We were her first litter..."

"Your father?", Sirius asked.

"Like many a dog-otter, he caught the wanderlust after his family duties were fulfilled. I don't remember him".

"Where are they now?", Harry asked.

"Sister #1 died, caught in an illegal gin. She was pulled under and drowned. Nothing we could do to help".

"So sorry for your loss", Harry and Sirius agreed.

"It was one of the first things I took care of. I got her justice, and I guarantee you, the bastard won't be doing any more illegal otter trapping after I got through with him. He'll regret that for the rest of his miserable existence.

"As for Sister #2, she's farther up the river, along a tributary. I stop by to watch, and she's raising a family of her own. As for Mother, right now, we're in a parallel dimension of space-time. To her, the holt doesn't look any different. She doesn't know it, but she's benefiting from the wards, no humans, no animals".

"Interesting", Sirius said, "and this technomage?"

"I can't name the name nor tell you anything more about him. I guess you'll be wanting to get back?", he asked of Harry.

"I can't spend the night".

"I expect I'll be coming by soon enough. Looks like I'll be visiting the Ministry again. Anyway, good night till next time".

"'Night, Lucius, Sirius"

"Thanks again, Harry", Sirius told him.

"We'll get to the bottom of this", Harry promised.

"I don't doubt it, not anymore", Sirius agreed.

Harry made his way back to where Vernon was waiting: "Everything went OK?", he asked.

"Couldn't be better, Sirius is in good hands now", he didn't elaborate.

"These adventures of yours just keep coming".

"You should be used to it by now".

"Harry, I'll never get used to it".

0xFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

The next day, an owlpost arrived: "It's from Pansy", Harry explained.

"The girl from Hogwarts? The one you said was forbidden to see you?"

"The same. Her father, Edmond, was one of Voldemort's followers. He got swept up in a raid, was tried and executed for all the crimes he committed during the last war", Harry explained.

"How positively dreadful", Petunia said. "That poor girl".

"Yeah, how do you reconcile yourself to knowing how awful your father was? Although it doesn't look like anyone's preventing me from seeing Pansy anymore. I best owl her back".

Harry didn't explain his role in this.

Harry owled back.

Dear Pansy,

So sorry to hear about your father. It must be rough, and I'd like to see you. It's too bad that this political nonsense came between us, especially since it was before our times. I'd like to come and see you, if it's at all possible.

Regards,

Harry

He went to see her when he had the free time.

"Oh Harry...", Pansy began. He gave her a big hug. "...I feel… so guilty..."

"Over what? It wasn't your fault".

"It's not that… when I heard… my first thought was relief that the beatings would stop".

"Pansy?"

"I got bare assed whippings with a cane a lot. That's why I avoided you after the Yule Ball… Mother, too, he abused her as well".

"I had no idea..."

"Is… is it wrong to feel glad it won't go on?"

"He's still your father… I don't think so… You're conflicted and that's understandable. I'll be here for you".

Harry also had business with the new Madam Parkinson:

"You need to go to Gringott's: see Barchoke, and tell him that Lord Gaunt referred you. Ask for an appointment to see Director Ragnok. Tell Ragnok that you want to rescind all joint access to your accounts. One of Voldemort's demands was that all his Death Eaters grant him access to their accounts. If you don't want him pilfering the family assets, you must do this. If there's any problems, let me know, and I'll see it's taken care of".

"I… didn't know that", Mrs Parkinson told him. "Thank you for mentioning it".

"That's what friends do for one another", Harry explained.

"You can see Pansy any time you like".

"Thank you for that".

Harry got through summer school with excellent grades. The one other event of significance was Aunt Marge's wedding. The event everyone was waiting for had finally arrived: the World Cup. The plan was for Vernon to pick up Hermione and her parents, then drive to Malfoy Manor. From there, they would be apparating to the site of the World Cup, a remote moor. They had to go in shifts: Lucius took the kids while Narcissa took Ted and Marilyn Granger, then come back for Vernon and Petunia.

For those using apparition, there was a convenient wooded area where they could arrive, unseen by muggle eyes. Others took muggle transportation, or they took portkeys. There were some 200 portkeys spread all over Britain. Since they were expecting a crowd of some 100,000, arrivals were staggered. Those with the cheapest tickets had to arrive two weeks early and camp out for the duration. Foreign visitors were arriving from five continents.

They crossed the moor, headed for a stone cottage. Beyond it, hundreds of tents rose up a gentle slope, towards dark woods on the horizon. Someone was standing in the door, looking out over the field of tents.

"Mornin'", Lucius greeted.

Harry knew he was probably one of the few muggles within a radius of ten miles.

"And a good mornin' to you Sir".

"You're Mr. Roberts?"

"Aye, that I am".

"Two tents for the Malfoy party, booked a couple of days ago?"

Mr Roberts consulted a spread sheet running on a lap top: "Here it is, good location, right by the woods. Will you be paying now?"

"Certainly… (Harry help me) These bits of paper".

"You a foreign guest?", Roberts asked. "We have a lot of them, not familiar with British currency. Two not ten minutes ago tried to pay with gold coins the size of hub caps".

"Did you now?", Lucius asked.

"Had to explain to them that I couldn't break those… Never been such a crowd, people just seem to show up. Lots of foreign guests, and weirdos. One bloke's here in kilts and a poncho".

"Shouldn't he?", Lucius asked.

"Seems strange, mixing Scottish with Mexican".

"Let's see...", Harry requested and counted off the correct amount.

"Your change, and a map of the camp site. Enjoy your stay with us for your rally, or party".

"What's up with that Mr. Roberts?", Hermione asked. "I thought muggles weren't supposed to know?"

"Mr. Roberts owns this property. We had to work with him in order to host the World Cup. There's always an exception for every rule, but he understands the importance of the secrecy laws, and can be trusted to say nothing of what he knows", Lucius explained. "it's good business for him, and for us as well".

They made their way through rows of tents, most of which didn't look out of the ordinary, though some did make mistakes by equipping their tents with chimneys, bell pulls, or weather vanes. Others, their owners made no attempt to conceal the magical nature. That was the case for the Malfoys' camp site. The tent was an extravaganza of stripped silk, complete with a few albino peacocks tethered by the front door, a garden with a fountain. It was by the edge of the wood. Dobby had done an excellent job setting it up for their arrival.

"We're gonna have a look around", Harry announced.

He, Draco, Hermione, and Dudley went off for some sight-seeing.

"That's fine, just make sure to be back before the game starts".

One little boy who looked to be about three was outside, prodding at a slug with a wand. It grew in size with each poke, and was now as large as a salami.

"Kevin! How many times have I told you, you do not touch Daddy's wand!", she reprimanded. "EWWWWW!", she stepped on it.

"You bust slug!", he complained.

"Inside! Right now!"

Two little girls no older than Kevin were riding toy broomsticks that rose no higher than to barely lift their feet from the ground.

"In broad daylight!", one Ministry wizard was complaining to himself.

It was already obvious that these folks were more intent on partying than secrecy. The Ministry couldn't do anything other than give them a pass.

A group of middle-aged women were gossiping beneath a sign that announced they were from the SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE

"Da fuck?", Dudley announced.

There was an entire stretch of tents that were thickly covered in shamrocks, making it look like a whole crop of oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted.

"Hermione? Harry?", someone called out. It was Seamus Finnigan. He was sitting in front of one of the shamrock covered tents with his best friend from Hogwarts, Dean Thomas and a sandy haired older lady that could only be his mother.

"Like the decorations?"

"Yes", she said, "Seamus, been awhile".

Seamus Finnigan was one of the Gryffindor Firsties to be pulled out of Hogwarts.

"Say, where are you going to school now?", he asked.

"We're going to Beaux Batons", Harry explained.

"I never left Hogwarts", Draco said. "No way would Father send me anywhere else".

"I'm still at Smeltings", Dudley explained.

"I'm not familiar with that school?", Seamus asked, confused.

"It's a school for normies", Dudley explained.

"When my folks transferred me out, we went back to Ireland where I attend a day school. I would've preferred staying too, but after that incident, it was out of the question".

Harry, Hermione and Draco well remembered the incident in question, the possessed Professor Quirrel.

"So what's with all the clover?', Dudley asked.

"They're shamrocks, actually. The Ministry officials are always complaining, but you should see what the Bulgarians are doing. You are supporting Ireland?"

"Well, yeah, keep it close to the family".

"It was a disgrace", Draco said, "England's losing to Transylvania by 390 : 10. Then Scotland falls to Uzbekistan, and Wales to Luxembourg. A miracle we got the World Cup at all".

"Glad to hear it", Seamus' mother announced as she passed out rosettes of green.

The souvenir hawkers were out in force, pushing carts or wearing trays. Luminous rosettes, green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria, called out the names of the team players, there were figurines of the players that would strut back and forth in the palm of your hand, flags that played their respective nation's anthems when you waved them. Green hats with dancing shamrocks, and Bulgarian scarves with lions who roared.

One stand offered something useful: brass binoculars.

"These are Omnioculars", the wizard explained, "you can replay the action, view in slow motion, even add commentary. Bargain at 10 Galleons".

It was here that they caught up with Ron, Ginny, Fred and George.

"Terrific!", Ron was complaining, "now I wish I hadn't bought all this crap!"

"I'll take five", Harry announced.

"You don't need...", Ron started to protest. One of the sore points between Ron and Harry was that Harry was a good deal richer than his entire family.

"Consider it an advanced Christmas", Harry explained, "of course, that means no Christmas this year".

"Thanks a lot!", Ron said.

"Thanks", Fred, George, and Ginny agreed.

"Not getting any souvenirs?", Harry asked as he noticed neither Fred nor George were sporting rosettes or hats.

"We decided it would be best...", Fred began.

"...To invest all our savings on a wager with Mr Bagman", George finished.

"Bagman's booking the game?", Harry asked. "Isn't that, well, just a bit illegal, not to mention a conflict of interest?"

"He organized the whole World Cup, so they're looking the other way", Fred said.

"Father didn't like it, but he's agreed to keep this from Mother. Ludo was a bit disappointed he could get only one Galleon from Dad – on Ireland, and he didn't want to part with that. We have big plans for our winnings, and don't want her confiscating it", Fred explained.

"She's always bitching about not getting enough OWLs, but we have plans of our own. Needless to say, she doesn't approve".

"What plans?"

"Now that, is a secret".

"So how did you bet? Ireland or Bulgaria? I promise I won't tell".

"Ireland, of course, but with a proposition: Ireland wins, but Krum gets the Snitch. Ludo offered 1000 : 1 odds".

"Isn't that, well, a bit unlikely?", Harry asked.

"We invested all we had: 37 Galleons, 15 Sickles and 3 Knewts. Not much we can do with that, but 37,000 Galleons is something we can work with. Don't take a chance; you don't succeed".

"That's so… improbable?", Hermione said. "Krum would have to catch the Snitch with his team way behind. Why would he even think to do such a thing?"

"I think we'd better find Ludo", Harry said. "I want in on this, you might want to put up what you can, Hermione".

"Why?! You have any idea how mental this sounds? I'd say it's lighting Galleons on fire, but they don't burn".

"Precisely"

They sought out Ludo Bagman, who was only too happy to take the same proposition from Harry and Hermione. They got their bets down just ahead of the sounding of the gong that announced that it was time for the spectators to make their way to the stadium.

Red and green lanterns switched on, outlining the path through the woods to the stadium that could seat 100,000. People started streaming for the entrances. The Malfoys and their guests used a special VIP's entrance.

"Top box!", the attendant announced. "straight up the stairs, all the way to the top. The stairs were carpeted in rich purple. The Top Box was a VIP sky box that was situated between the golden goal posts, some fifty feet above the pitch, which looked like green velvet from this vantage point. A couple dozen purple and gilt chairs stood in two rows. Far below, spectators were streaming into their seats. There was what looked like a giant blackboard, almost in the direct line of sight. Everything was illuminated by a mysterious golden light that could have come from the very stadium itself.

It was here they met up with Minister Fudge, Minister Oblansk of Bulgaria, and the Weasleys: Arthur, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George, Percy, Bill, and Charles. Molly was staying behind to look after family business (she wasn't all that enthusiastic about Quiddich anyway).

"Mr. Minister", Percy greeted, bowing so low his glasses slipped off, breaking. He repaired his glasses with an embarrassed look.

"Mr?", Fudge began.

"Weasley… Percy Weasley. I just started at the Ministry: Mr Crouch's assistant".

"Good man, Barty Crouch, and welcome aboard".

"And Harry", Fudge greeted him like an old friend, almost like an equal, as Percy looked on, not concealing his envy. "You haven't met Mr Oblansk or Oblansok – doesn't matter, he doesn't speak a word of English – the Bulgarian Minister of Magic?"

"The pleasure's all mine", as Harry offered a hand. The Bulgarian was wearing a black velvet robe with gold trim.

"Mr. Minister", Fudge tried explaining, "you have heard of Harry Potter: the only known survivor of the Killing Curse?"

The Bulgarian Minister indicated he understood by pointing at Harry's scar.

Fudge bowed to Narcissa Malfoy: "Lady Malfoy, good to see you again".

"Arthur", Lucius said to Mr Weasley.

"Lucius".

"Fancy meeting you here".

"I got the tickets, courtesy of Mr. Bagman, for services rendered".

"Lucius is my guest", Fudge explained. "He's just made a sizable donation to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Maladies".

"That's always welcome", Arthur agreed.

"I'm glad, at least, the Ministry is showing you some favours", Lucius told Arthur. "It's the least they could do to reward you for all your efforts for your Department", he added with a hint of sarcasm.

More VIPs were entering the sky box, and Percy was up and down out of his seat so much it looked like he was trying to sit on a hedge hog. The ultimate brown noser, Harry thought to himself.

The "blackboard" opposite their line of sight displayed advertisements as though written by an unseen hand, then wiped clean for the next ones:

The Blue Bottle – a broom for the entire family. Equipped with its own security systems…

Mrs. Shower's Magical Mess-Remover – No more scrubbing and scouring. Just spray and wipe...

Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans – A risk with every bite...

And on and on: Harry figured placing an ad here was as pricey as any muggle sports broadcast.

Harry looked around to see who was up here, and he spotted a familiar figure: a critter so small its legs stuck straight out from the seat that was way too large for it. Its hands covered its face, but there was no mistaking those bat-ears.

"Dobby?"

It looked back at him: "Did Sir just call me 'Dobby'?"

"Excuse me, you looked like someone I know". It definitely wasn't him, though obviously a house elf by the size and misshapen nose. This one's nose the size and shape of a large tomato.

"I is Winky, Sir, and you must be Harry Potter?"

"Yes, but how did you know?"

"I has heard of Dobby, and heard what your special friend did for him".

Harry didn't like the sound of that.

"Would you run that by me again?"

"Sir, we house elves know each other. We talk when out doing errands for our masters. Word gets around".

"I see… and what are you doing?"

"I is saving a seat for my master… Though I is not liking it, I is scared of high places. I would rather be back in master's tent".

"Good thing", Lucius said, "the Bulgarians are always trying to cadge all the good seats".

"Then why did he send you?", Hermione asked.

"I is good house elf. I always do what master says".

"Even if he knew you don't like heights? You had no choice? Rather inconsiderate, if you ask me".

"Master is good master, and I is good house elf. I does what master says. It's the duty of the house elf to serve well and work hard. It matters not what I wants".

"That sounds more like being a slave than a servant".

"I is not listening to such subversive talk!"

Winky folded down her ears, hands clasped firmly in place. It was obvious the discussion was over.

"Well, that SUX", Hermione said to Harry. "Something needs to change about that". She pulled out her program: "Says here they're going to have a pre-game show with the team mascots performing".

"Oh, they always do that", Lucius explained. "It's always worth watching".

"Ready?", Ludo asked Fudge.

"Ready when you are".

Ludo used the Sonorous amplification charm that worked like a PA: "Welcome! Ladies and Gentlemen: welcome to the final of the 427th World Cup!"

The spectators waved, clapped, and waved their flags that played the national anthem, all adding to the noise of excitement. The "blackboard" now displayed:

IRELAND: 0

BULGARIA: 0

"Without further ado, the Bulgarian National Team mascots!"

"I see", Arthur commented, "veela"

"What are vee...", Ron started asking.

The veela were lining up on their side of the field. Veela were women, or at least that's what they looked like, the most beautiful women Ron had ever seen. Yet, they looked too perfect, and he wondered how it was their skin seemed to shine full moon-bright with their own light.

They began to sing and dance: "Cover your ears!", Harry called out. He had some experience with veela at Beaux Batons in Fleur Delacourt.

Ron didn't do it, and quit worrying about it. He quit thinking about anything at all, but for the sirens' song. Just blissfully empty of anything but for the singing and dancing veela far below on the field. He thought it would be a good idea to get a closer look, as he began to climb over the guard railing. Never mind the serious, fifty foot drop.

"Hell do you think you're doing!", Ginny called out, pulling him back, breaking the spell.

"Huh? Wha…?"

"Looked to me like you were actually going to jump!"

The veelas' spell didn't work on women and girls.

"Don't listen!", she reprimanded.

After the veelas' performance, the males in the crowd booed and demanded more. As the veela lined up along the side wall.

"And now, put your wands in the air for the Irish National Team mascots!", Ludo called out.

What looked like a comet came streaking over the field, making one complete circuit before splitting into comets that settled beside the goals at opposite ends of the pitch. A rainbow arced overhead, connecting both sides, ending at a ball of light. The crowd oohed and ahhed at the display.

Next, the rainbow faded, and the balls of light merged and broke apart, forming a large shamrock that rose above the stadium. Next, it looked like a golden shower. As it passed overhead, gold coins dropped on everyone's heads, clattered to the floor, bounced off seats.

"Awesome!", Ron called out as he began to scoop as many of the coins as he could.

"Leprechauns!", Arthur called out. (What else could the Irish mascots be?)

Looking closely, you could see that they were carrying green lanterns and wearing bright red vests.

"Here you go!", Ron called out as he handed Harry a handful of gold coins. "For the Omnioculars. We're even now, so you're back on the hook for Christmas!"

The shamrock formation broke as the leprechauns landed on the field, taking their places opposite the veela, and settled down to watch the match.

"And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, would you please welcome the Bulgarian National Team! I give you… Dimitrov!"

A figure in scarlet robes shot out from the locker room tunnel so fast as to almost blur, riding a Firebolt.

"Ivanova!"

A second figure appeared with the same speed.

"Zograf! Levsky! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaad Krum!"

"That's him! That's him!", Ron called out, following him with his Omnioculars. "He's not just a great athlete, he's an artist! A genius!"

Harry focused his as well. He'd heard about Viktor Krum, as any Quiddich player would have, though knowing few of the details. He was thin and dark, with a large curved nose. He bore a great resemblance to Snape, Harry thought, with the same bird of prey look. Except for the thick, bushy, black eyebrows, and that his hair wasn't long and greasy. He didn't look eighteen.

"And now please give it up for the Irish National Team!", called Bagman. "Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand Lynch!"

The Irish players wearing green swept onto the field from the tunnel on the other side of the field.

"Now let's give a warm welcome to our referee, all the way from Egypt, the Chairman of the International Association of Quiddich, Hassan Mosafa!"

Mosafa was a small, bald wizard with a mustache that could rival Uncle Vernon's. He had a wooden box under one arm, and his broom in the other. His robes gold to differentiate him from the players. He set the box down at the center of the pitch. He released the scarlet Quaffle, the black Bludgers, and visible for an instant, the Golden Snitch. He mounted his broom, and took off after the balls. A sharp blast from his whislte signaled the start of the match.

"Aaaand they're off!", Bagman announced. "Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levsky! Moran again!"

The Chasers passed the Quaffle so fast that all Bagman could do was announce their names, let alone describe what they were doing. Harry looked on through his Omnioculars, dialing in the slow motion feature, and clicking on the commentary button. He was getting a bit jealous here. He fancied himself a pretty good player, he'd done quite well with both Slytherin's and Beaux Batons' teams, but his teams were pikers compared to these guys.

HAWKSHEAD ATTACK FORMATION the superimposed text read. The Irish Chasers flew with Troy just in front of Mullet and Moran, as they bore down on the Bulgarians in a flying wedge.

PORSKOFF PLOY popped up next as Troy suddenly shot upwards, drawing off the Bulgarian Chaser, Ivanova, while dropping the Quaffle to Moran. Volkov, the Bulgarian Beater took a powerful swing at a passing Bludger, sending it into Moran's path. He had to duck to avoid it, and dropped the Quaffle. Levsky, flying low, caught it…

"TROY SCORES!", Bagman called out as the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. "Ten : nothing Ireland's favour!"

"Da fuck!", Harry called out, "Levsky has the Quaffle!"

"Honestly, Harry, you're going to miss things if you watch in slow motion", Hermione reprimanded. Troy took a celebratory lap around the field. The leprechauns took to the sky, to form a glittering shamrock, as the veela sulked on their side of the field.

The Chasers of both teams were superb, and played much better than those of any school team. It was almost like they were using telepathy, they co-ordinated their attacks so well. The green rosette Harry wore kept squeaking out their names: "Troy… Mullet… Mooooran..." In the next ten minutes, Ireland scored two more times to bring the score to 30 : 0 Ireland's favour. The green clad supporters of Team Ireland sent up a din of cheers, roars, and applause.

The pace of the game increased, as did the brutality. The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, smacked the Bludgers even more fiercely, scattering the Irish Chasers' formations, preventing them from deploying their best moves. Twice they had to scatter, allowing Ivanova to break through their ranks and slip the Quaffle past the Irish Keeper, Ryan, to finally put Bulgaria on the score board.

"30 : 10 IRELAND'S FAVOUR!", Bagman announced.

All males put fingers in ears as the veela began to sing and dance in celebration. This time, it was all the leprechauns who sulked in disappointment.

"Dimitrov! Levsky! Dimitrov! Ivanova! Oh my...", Bagman announced.

The chasers, Krum and Lynch had broken off, headed for the ground at an insane speed.

"They're gonna crash!", Hermione called out, concerned.

"No they're not!", Harry called back as he looked for any glint of gold, but seeing none.

Hermione was half right, as Krum broke off his dive just in time. Lynch wasn't so fortunate as he took a header right onto the field with a thud heard all over the stadium. The Irish supporters let out a collective groan.

"Asshole!", Arthur called out. "He was faking it! How could he be so stupid?!"

"Wronsky Faint", Harry explained, as he'd used this very tactic himself while playing for Team Slytherin.

"Time out!", called Bagman as play was suspended while the medimagi examined Lynch.

"I hope he's OK", Hermione said.

"He'll be just fine", Lucius reminded, "he just got ploughed. It happens".

Harry took a look at Krum through the Omnioculars as he circled a hundred feet above the stadium. His eyes darted all over. He was using the down time to look for the Snitch while he had no interference.

Finally, Lynch got back on his feet, revived by the potions the medimagi gave him. He got back on his Firebolt, and kicked off.

"Looks like Ireland won't have to play without a Seeker after all", Bagman announced.

Mosafa blew his whistle and play resumed. Lynch's recovery gave new heart to Ireland's supporters. Over the next fifteen minutes, Irelans scored ten more goals in rapid fire succession.

As Mullet shot towards the Bulgarian goals yet again, the Keeper, Zograf shot forward to intercept her. Harry couldn't see from his vantage point, but Mosafa's whistle blast indicated there had been a foul.

"Mosafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing: excessive use of elbows, and it is a penalty for Ireland", Bagman explained.

The leprechauns took to the sky to form the words: "HA! HA! HA!"

The veela likewise took to the field, and began to sing and dance. The reff had landed among them, and was acting in a most unprofessional manner, flirting, smoothing his mustache.

"We can't have that!", Bagman announced, "referee interference. Someone get out there and give him a good slap".

One of the medimagi did precisely that, bringing the referee back to reality. He looked embarrassed as he was now yelling something to the veela, who had stopped their singing and dancing. Now they glared at him with mutiny in their eyes.

"Mosafa appears to be attempting to eject the Bulgarian Team mascots from the field! We haven't seen anything like this before… Oh this could get ugly".

He was quite right. The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Volchanov landed next to the referee and began a loud argument concerning the leprechauns who were now forming the words: HEE! HEE! HEE! Even though no one could hear, it was obvious what he was ordering the players to do as he pointed skywards. When the players didn't return to the game, the reff gave two blasts from his whistle.

"Two penalties for Ireland: unnecessary delay of game!", he called out.

The Bulgarian fans howled with anger. Volkov and Volchanov returned to the game, which reached even higher levels of dirty play. The Beaters for both sides showed no mercy, and the Bulgarian Beaters seemed to not care whether their bats hit a Bludger or a human. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, almost unseating her.

"Foul! Foul! Foul!", roared the Irish fans.

"Foul", Bagman agreed. "Skinning, Dimitrov deliberately tried to collide with Moran… Yes, there's the whistle: another penalty for Ireland".

The leprechauns formed a large hand that was flipping the bird at the veela, who freaked. They were throwing fireballs at the leprechauns. Now, they didn't look so pretty as their faces were transforming into bird's heads with long, cruel-looking beaks, bat wings sprouting from their shoulders. Ministry wizards were rushing onto the field to try to separate the veela and leprechauns to keep them from killing one another. The battle on the field was as fierce as the one taking place above it.

"Levsky… Dimitrov… Moran… Mullet… Inavova… Moran again… MORAN SCORES!"

The announcement barely heard over the roar of the Irish fans, and the shrieking of the veela, the blasts from Ministry officials' wands, and the frustration of the Bulgarian fans. Play resumed immediately, with Dimitrov having possession. Dimitrov… now Levsky..."

The Irish Beater, Quigley, smashed the Bludger hard, sending it straight at Krum, who didn't duck quite quick enough. He took the hit straight to the face. Everyone wondered how he could take a hit like that, and not fall off his broom. His nose clearly broken; blood pouring down his face. It looked like that Bludger should have taken his head off.

No time out was called, as Mosafa had problems of his own: a veela's fireball set the bristles of his broom on fire.

"Hellsamatter with them?", Hermione called out. "He can't play like that!"

"Look at Lynch!", Harry replied.

Lynch was diving at a furious pace, but this time it wasn't a Wronsky Feint: it was the real deal. He had an eyeball on the Snitch. The crowd figured it out, and the Irish fans rose in a wave of green to cheer their Seeker on. However, Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going was anyone's guess: droplets of blood flew behind him. Krum pulled alongside…

"They're gonna crash!", Hermione called out.

"No, they're not".

Once again, Lynch face planted onto the field, a mob of angry veela stampeding him.

"Krum has the Snitch!", Bagman announced as Krum held up a glint of gold. "It's all over! Ireland wins: 210 to 190!"

"Why did he catch the Snitch when they were more than 150 points behind?!", Ron called out. "Did he forget the score? What an idiot!"

"He knew it was all over", Harry called back. "How much longer could he stay in the air? He wanted to end it on his terms".

"IRELAND WINS!", Bagman called out. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH, BUT IRELAND WINS! MERLIN! I DON'T THINK ANY OF US EXPECTED THAT!"

Medimagi were making their way through the mob of veela to attend to Krum, but he refused to allow them to clean him up. His team mates crowded around, looking disappointed.

The Irish players were on their side of the field, dancing in celebration as the leprechauns showered them with gold. The whole stadium resonated with the Irish national anthem, played by multitudes of waving Irish flags. The veela were transforming back into female figures, slinking back to their side of the field, disappointed and dejected.

"At least we put up a good struggle", came a voice from behind. It was the Bulgarian Minister.

"You… you speak English?!", Fudge asked, indignant. "You made me point and pantomime all this time?"

"Well, it was rather funny".

"As Team Ireland performs a lap of victory, the Quiddich World Cup is brought to the Top Box", Bagman was saying.

A bright spot light illuminated the inside, so everyone could watch the presentation. Two wizards were carrying the large, gold cup.

The Bulgarian players filed into the first row: "Let's give the gallant losers a round of appreciation". As they arrived, they shook hands with the two Ministers of Magic, their own and Fudge.

Viktor Krum, still carrying the Snitch, was last in line. His face still a bloody mess, as two black eyes were forming. The whole crowd gave them a standing ovation.

The Irish team was next, the Chaser, Aiden Lynch, had to b held up by two of his team mates after that second crash. Quigley and Moran held up the Cup while the whole audience cheered, clapped, stamped their feet. They took another victory lap, this time flanked by their mascots. Lynch had to ride behind Connolly as he was in no condition to fly solo.

"Quietus", Bagman cast the neutralizing spell.

"Well, they'll be talking about this match for years", Bagman said, "Too bad it didn't last longer".

Harry, Hermione, George and Fred were right there to collect their winnings.

"How much do I owe you?", he asked. Thirty seven thousand and change for Fred and George; fifty thousand to Harry and Hermione a piece.

"Ummmm… this is a bit embarrassing", he apologized, "it would seem I'm a little short. I'll have it for you real soon", he promised. It was embarrassing, but they knew they'd get paid because Bagman wouldn't be booking any more action if he got the reputation of a welcher.

Hermione asked: "How did you know?"

"The fix was in from the get-go", Harry explained. "That game was rigged, and somehow, Fred and George knew. Team Ireland isn't that good, I mean, really, Lynch falls for the oldest trick in the book and ploughs? Team Bulgaria took a powder, and Krum catches the Snitch to lose the whole game? It doesn't add up".

"But… who? And why?"

"Looks like someone wanted Bagman on the hook for some reason".

"But who?", she asked again.

"I don't know, but I have a real good suspicion".