Luna had never seen so many people in her life, nor so many tents. As they emerged from the shadowy coolness of the forest and walked down a gentle slope, a wide, flat moor stretched before them. It was a sun-dappled patchwork of green, brown, yellow, and gray, bejeweled with thousands of tents of every size, shape, and color. Wizards and witches scurried in the makeshift paths between the tents like ants in a colony. The smells of sizzling, greasy street food, sweating bodies, and sun-bleached grass wafted across the rolling expanse of the moor and into Luna's nostrils.
"Cor, it looks like one of your mum's tarot cards!" Ginny exclaimed, and Luna knew exactly what she meant. The scene had all the pageantry, color, and chaos of a medieval fair.
"I'd take watching a jousting tournament over Quidditch any day," Luna grumbled, more out of determined contrariness than actual ire.
"You don't mean it; I know you don't. Even you have to admit it! It's bloody cool," Ginny nudged Luna between the ribs.
"That's right, Gin! You'd have to be a downright scrooge to look at that and not be impressed," one of the twins said. And they were right. Luna had never given a fig about Quidditch, but the Quidditch World Cup was truly a feast for the senses. There was bound to be something interesting for even the most apathetic observer, even if it was just people watching. The sheer scale alone was staggering. Luna hadn't realized there were this many wizards and witches in the entire world, let alone this many Quidditch fans.
"Dunno, it doesn't look too impressive from down here," Lavender tried to chuckle, but her voice sounded faint. While the others stood at the edge of the clearing enjoying the view, she sat with her head between her knees while taking deep, shuddering breaths. Portkeys always made her nauseated.
"You're looking a bit peaky too, Harry," observed the other twin, Luna thought it might be George. Harry had been even quieter than usual since they landed, and Luna saw that his knobby knees were trembling.
"Well, I've never taken a portkey before, so I feel a little…" Harry was cut off by Hermione descending on him like a fussing mother hen.
"Why don't you sit down with Lavender? I'm sure I have some Kwells in my bag somewhere, shall I look for it?"
"I'm fine, really, Hermione," Harry said, waving her off. He remained standing.
"Good thing I've prepared for just this eventuality, eh? The ginger'll settle your stomach right down," said Mr. Weasley, fishing a packet of ginger newts out of his rucksack and passing them to Harry and Lavender.
Mr. Weasley and the rest of the Ministry of Magic had clearly prepared for every possible eventuality when planning the world cup. As the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Luna, and Lavender roamed through the maze of tents, it seemed like every other person they came across was a Ministry official of some sort. Some were leading people to their campsites, which had been arranged in neat grids with letters and numbers assigned to each block, while others patrolled the perimeter checking the Muggle-repelling charms. Still more issued licenses and inspected the wares of vendors selling everything from singing leprechaun figurines to Scotch dragon eggs that made you breathe fire after taking a bite.
"The entire operation is a well-oiled machine! Hello, Fawley," Mr. Weasley greeted one of his colleagues with a wave. The man called Fawley looked harried and was standing at the head of a queue of people, waving his wand over each of their tickets.
"There were rumors that some dunderheads got the bright idea to distribute counterfeit tickets, so of course we had to nip that in the bud. We were expecting something like this might happen, so the genuine tickets have all been enchanted with an authenticity sigil. It's easy enough to check," Mr. Weasley explained, puffing his chest out in pride.
"We should be just around this corner…ah, yes, M384, here's our plot," he said, leading them to a small patch of scrubby, yellowing grass that barely looked large enough for a two-person tent. Mr. Weasley placed a small roll of canvas on the ground and pointed his wand at it.
"Erecto!"
The tent was about as impressive as the campsite, at least from the outside. If anything, it looked like it would strain to hold a single person. Harry looked down at the tent, then at the circle of Weasleys and hangers-on, as if mentally tallying how many people were supposed to fit inside a tent that looked like two scraps of canvas stitched together. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Fred and George nudged each other and nearly doubled over with the effort of holding in their laughter. Harry cleared his throat.
"Er, excuse me, Mr. Weasley?" Harry had evidently summoned all of his courage to speak up.
"Paging Arthur Weasley! Arthur Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office! You are needed at the intersections of rows T and BB." A female voice suddenly blared at a nearly deafening volume, and they all jumped. It seemed to be coming from the pocket of Mr. Wealsey's robes.
"Ah, hold on, gang," Mr. Weasley fumbled in his pockets before retrieving a small bright pink rubber duck which had begun vibrating and beeping like a klaxon.
"Now, where is the…ah, yes," he tapped the duck's beak with the tip of his wand and the sound stopped instantly.
"Inspired by Muggle talkie-walkies! I enchanted them myself. Good, isn't it?" He glanced eagerly at Harry, clearly expecting some kind of illuminating lecture on talkie-walkies.
"Right, yeah, good," Harry repeated, with one of his wide-eyed, naïve smiles.
"Anyway, sorry, gang, but duty calls. This morning some rascals thought it would be funny to enchant a sleeping bag to chase Mr. and Mrs. Roberts around, those are the Muggles who own the field. We already have a team of Obliviators on standby for the Robertses, of course, but there's no need to make their jobs any harder. Hopefully it's just more of the same," Mr. Weasley put Bill in charge and gave him the tickets in case they needed to make their way to the stadium without him.
"So, what's up with this tent?" Harry finally finished the question he had started asking several minutes ago.
"Just wait and see, mate, you're gonna love it," Ron said as he ushered Harry over the threshold.
"Woah," Harry's eyes widened as he stepped inside Mr. Perkins's tent. It was the size of a small flat, not luxurious, but comfortably furnished with a kitchenette, sofa, and several sets of bunk beds. There was even a bathroom that was more spacious than it had any right to be. It was easy to forget you were in a tent at all, let alone one whose exterior looked like it had been made for pixies.
"But…how? It's bigger on the inside! Isn't that mathematically impossible or something?" Harry touched the wall of the tent and then stuck his head through the flap to check it was still the same tent on the outside.
"Listen, Harry, I dunno if anyone's told you this, but there's this little thing called magic," one of the twins said as he dropped his rucksack on one of the top bunks to claim it.
"I swear, having Harry around has got to be the single biggest source of entertainment the Weasley family's had over the past four years. He's like a cross between a dog and a baby," the other twin slapped Harry bracingly on the shoulder before sprawling onto the bottom bed of his twin's bunk.
The rest of them claimed beds and unpacked before reconvening in the sitting room for a game of gobstones and chilled butterbeer, which was refreshing in the muggy August heat. The tent had many amenities, but it didn't have aircon.
"Are you feeling better?" Luna asked Lavender, who was sitting away from the game while nursing her butterbeer.
"Yeah, much better, thanks," Lavender smiled, "You look like you're having fun."
"I'd honestly pay to watch Ginny get beaten at anything," Luna shrugged. Ginny swore loudly and tried in vain to dodge the spray of foul green liquid spurting from her losing pieces.
"It's not because of the world cup, though, honestly. If we were camping in the middle of a field somewhere it would be just as much fun. I can't remember the last time I've been away from the Circle and been able to think about something that didn't have to do with the Circle in one way or another."
"I know what you mean. You've barely had to talk for nearly half an hour," Lavender lifted her bottle in both hands and took a sip.
"Yeah, exactly. And Fred and George would take the absolute piss out of anyone who tried to call me the raven queen and get me to order them about. I just get to be normal for once," Luna ran her finger around the rim of her own bottle.
"Yeah. I guess I'd not thought about it that way," Lavender said quietly. They watched the next few rounds in companionable silence, until Ginny finally grew fed up with losing and knocked the gobstones off the table before joining her friends.
"It's absolute bollocks! I know they're cheating. I just can't figure out how!"
"Is it even possible to cheat at gobstones?" Lavender asked, wiping green slime from Ginny's cheek.
"They probably have something up their sleeves. Oh, shut up, I didn't mean literally!" she said when Fred and George flashed her two pairs of empty sleeves.
"Don't be a bad sport, Gin," Bill called from the kitchen, where he was sitting with his feet on the table and a book in his lap.
"I'm not being a bad sport!"
"What, are you going to cross your arms and stamp your feet? Come on. Why don't you take some time to simmer down?"
"Fine. Can we go find Parvati and Padma and the others from the Circle, then?"
"Nope," Bill said without looking up from his book.
"Oh, come on, no fair! You said I needed to cool off."
"It would be nice to see the other girls. We haven't seen them in ages. Padma and Parvati have been here since Thursday and Sylvia's been here over a week. I miss them," Lavender said.
"There wouldn't be enough time. We're in the top box so we need to get there early," Bill said, closing his book with evident reluctance.
"Yeah, we've got a lot of stairs to climb," Fred said.
"Plenty of time for you to walk off all that anger, Gin. Maybe you'll actually be talking to us once we get to the top box," George joked. Ginny lowered her eyes and shuffled her feet, chastened.
"Look, I'm sorry if I blew my top. You know how competitive I get," she grumbled.
"No worries, little sis. You were right, anyway. We were cheating. We just won't tell you how," Fred waggled his eyebrows at Ginny, who let out a shriek of anger and began kicking the twins' shins. They clambered onto two of the top bunks to find respite, cackling like hyenas.
"See, Bill, I told you they were cheating! Now can I go find Parvati?"
"Cheating or no, there still wouldn't be time."
"It'll only take a minute! We haven't seen them in ages," Ginny protested.
"Do you even know where their tents are? It could take an hour to cross from one side of the moor to the other if you don't know where you're going. Besides, Mr. Weasley said we were supposed to stick together," Hermione fretted.
"Exactly. Alright, get up, you lot. Use the toilet now, because trust me, you are not going to want to use the public toilets at the stadium," Bill shepherded them all toward the bedrooms and bathroom as he collected the empty butterbeer bottles scattered throughout the sitting room.
"Hold up, pocket inspection," he blocked the door just as the twins were trying to slip through with their pockets bulging with stink bombs, Filibuster fireworks, and other prank supplies. They groaned but surrendered the booty.
"Parvati and I were supposed to meet up and take bets on who would win," Ginny sighed as she turned out her pockets for Bill's inspection.
"Tough luck. You'll have to wait and see her after the game," Ron said without much sympathy.
"That's easy for you to say. You only have two friends and they're both here," Ginny shot back.
"Out of order, Gin," Bill said.
"Ron was rude first!"
"Was not," Ron rounded on his younger sister, but Bill cut them off.
"Hey, I don't care who started it. Let's get going. Don't forget to bring some gold if you'll be wanting merch," Bill reminded them all as he did a final head count and led them out of the tent. Luna imagined they made an odd sight for the other campers they passed: a young man with an earring and a ponytail ordering around a gaggle of children with the put-upon expression of an exhausted mother.
"I want to get one of those miniature dragons that breathes red and black flames and sings the Bulgarian national anthem," Lavender said, checking her robes to make sure she had her coin purse as they began the long trek to the stadium.
"Those are wicked," George agreed, "But seems like a waste of gold to buy a memento for the losing team."
"Personally, we've got our eye on those shamrock hats that shoot rainbows. Reckon we can repurpose them to shoot…well, for other purposes," said Fred, with a furtive glance at Bill's back. He and George were slathering their faces in face paint as they walked, green and white for the Irish national team.
"So why are you supporting the losing team? Some sense of British loyalty?" Ron taunted. He had already painted the word KRUM proudly on his forehead back in the tent.
"Nah. Krum's a better Seeker than three of Lynch put together, we'll give you that, little Ronald. But the Bulgarian chasers are no match for Moran, Troy, and Mullet. It'll be the luck of the Irish in the end, we reckon."
"Yeah, but even if Ireland had twenty stellar Chasers, no one could beat Krum," Ron insisted. Ginny was listening closely, as she still had not decided who to support in her bet against Parvati.
"But Krum only does one thing – catches the Snitch. It'd be one thing if this were a Hogwarts game, where the scores don't usually top a few hundred. But for the Quidditch World Cup? Krum getting 150 points is nothing in the grand scheme of things; the only thing it does is end the game," George said.
"Bulgaria's chasers will constantly be playing catch up with the Irish Seekers. Krum won't be able to do very much Seeking at all, so what does it matter if he's the best in the world? I reckon he'll spend most of his time trying to distract Lynch from ending things while Ireland is ahead," Fred agreed.
Luna had never understood Quidditch strategy and had always made it a point to put absolutely no effort into learning. She was only half listening as the more impassioned Quidditch fans among them debated all the way to the stadium. Instead, she drank in the sights, sounds, and smells of the fairgrounds. In every stall and around every corner there were new wonders: wizards in strange clothing, foods she had never seen before, and enchanting magical merchandise.
Ron bought a moving figurine of Viktor Krum from a stall festooned in the Bulgarian colors of black and red. He tucked Krum safely in his pocket, giving his microscopically tiny arm a pinch for good luck. Even Luna knew that Viktor Krum was the greatest Seeker of the century and that if not for him, Bulgaria would not have even made it to the quarterfinals. Lavender bought a shamrock hat and Fred and George purchased an entire stack of the Irish hats for experimental purposes, plus green foam fingers that was enchanted to make obscene gestures when the Bulgarian team scored. Even Hermione bought a green and white scarf. It was sensible and plain enough to wear as a regular winter scarf, she said. Bill, Ginny, and Luna did not buy anything, although Ginny stopped every few stalls to look at the wares and bite her fingernails.
"Who do you think you'll support, Ginny?" Lavender asked after Ginny stopped outside a stall selling Bulgarian and Irish flags for about the twelfth time.
"Well I haven't bloody decided yet, have I? Parvati's dead set on Ireland winning, but that's like her, isn't it? She only cares about the Chasers. I was going to bet on Bulgaria just so I could bet against Parvati, but now I'm not so sure. Fred and George have an annoying habit of being right about this sort of thing."
The twins swept her a low bow in mock gratitude.
"You could just watch without supporting anyone," Luna shrugged, distracted by the sight of a witch leading a massive many-colored beetle the size of a dog on a leash.
"Any chance you could have one of your prophecies to help me out, eh, Luna?" Ginny joked.
"Oh, right, because I can have prophecies on command, and about Quidditch of all things!" Luna's tone was dripped in the sarcasm that infused so many of her conversations with Ginny, their ironic running jokes. The twins chuckled in appreciation.
"Well, I just figured I'd check. Make a few sickles, you know," Ginny groused, crossing her arms and tracing her fingers over the constellations of the freckles on her forearms. Perhaps she hadn't been joking after all.
"Well, it wouldn't have been fair anyway. All bets are off if you've got a Seer on your side! Don't tell her anything, Luna," George said, ruffling his sister's hair.
"If it were possible to make your fortune by selectively having prophecies, all Seers would be wealthy, wouldn't they? But prophecies aren't very profitable, I can tell you that much. And even if I had one, I wouldn't tell her anyway. Parvati would never forgive me," Luna assured them.
"Alright, fine. Blimey, what a queue," Ginny whistled as the glimmering stadium came into view. The building was unfathomably enormous on a scale Luna had never seen before; Mr. Weasley had said it was meant to hold over 100,000 people. It was covered in gold tiles that looked like the scales of a massive dragon. There were sweeping, curved awnings hugging the edges of the building to shield the spectators from the worst of the sun, but it was open in the middle to allow the Golden Snitch and the players free reign of the skies. The top of the stadium must have been thousands of feet above the ground. Luna imagined Ginny flying that high, soaring above the cheering crowds. There would be nothing but the hard marquee and the harder ground to break her fall. There were several entrances with queues snaking in all directions, encircling the stadium in thousands of witches and wizards from all over the world.
"See, I told you there wasn't time to see your other friends," Hermione chided as a Ministry employee examined their tickets and directed them to one of the shortest, fastest-moving lines. Ginny and Luna rolled their eyes at one another. They had rejoiced when Caroline Figg said she would not be coming to the World Cup, but it seemed she was with them in spirit after all, her nagging and annoying presence embodied in Hermione.
Their queue moved quickly, as it was mostly for the elite and Ministry employees who had been lucky enough to secure spots in the best boxes, and they were soon inside and making their way up what felt like dozens of flights of stairs. The stadium was already more than half full and the stands were an anonymous sea of faces and robes and signs and humming, murmuring, shuffling excitement, as if the collective anticipation of the crowd had taken on a life of its own.
"Wow," Lavender breathed.
"Crikey, that's a lot of people," Ginny whistled. Luna said nothing, too swept up in the splendor of it all, the juxtaposition of the sweeping, grandiose architecture contrasted with the warm, sweaty press of human bodies.
"Right, you lot, I'll be holding with no nonsense from any of you. Dad got us seats in the top box and a bunch of important people from work will be there. No pranks, you two, even if you've somehow managed to sneak something past me," Bill gave Fred and George a significant look.
"Reckon Dad'll be back from de-cursing a sleeping bag in time for the match?" Fred asked.
"I hope so, considering what he had to do to get these tickets," Bill said, "But even if he doesn't come back in time, it's not an excuse to try one of your schemes."
The Weasleys bickered all the way to the top box, Harry, Hermione, Lavender, and Luna trailing behind in their boisterous, noisy wake.
The box was as luxurious as Luna could have imagined, with plush purple chairs, several tables full of magically replenishing refreshments, and a staff of house elves who bowed deeply every time a wizard or witch glanced in their direction. The Weasleys and hangers-on quieted immediately upon entering the box, inching silently into a row of seats near the back of the room. Luna ended up sitting between Ginny and Lavender.
"Wicked!" the twins said in unison before Bill shushed them. Percy, wearing dress robes and a Ministry pin, rushed over to greet them. He gave Bill a stiff handshake and nodded to the others.
"Hello, hello. I hope you enjoy yourselves, but you children really must be on your best behavior. This is an important day for Mr. Crouch and the Minister," Percy said, turning quickly around to look at the group of officials surrounding Cornelius Fudge, as if checking if they had seen him with his family.
"You children really must be on your best behavior," George did a high-pitched impression of Percy's droning voice.
"Come off it, Perc, George and I are 16 and you're fresh out of Hogwarts," Fred scoffed.
"I happen to be an integral staff member in the department that planned the event you're about to enjoy," Percy sniffed, "and you will not ruin it. This is an important networking opportunity for me…" he glanced again towards Fudge, who was taking a drink from a tray held by a house elf.
"Oh, shut up, it's a bloody Quidditch game," Ginny muttered.
"It feels sort of…wrong being here," Luna said, turning away from the newest Weasley family quarrel to whisper in Lavender's ear.
"Because of the house elves?" Lavender whispered back.
"Yeah, and just generally the disgusting opulence of it all. Cornelius Fudge is right there, sipping sherry while merpeople are being caught in nets and forced out of their home waters."
"I'm amazed your parents let you come, to be honest. Your mum would probably say something about bread and circuses," Lavender said.
"Using the opiate of Quidditch to appease the masses. Maybe she's not wrong. Oh, goddess, look who's here," Luna inclined her head towards the entrance, where the Malfoys had just entered. Luna shifted low in her seat and hope they wouldn't see her, assiduously avoiding Narcissa and Draco's gazes in particular.
"We must have the wrong box, Father, because the Weasleys are here," Draco sneered.
Bill put a restraining arm over Ron and Percy practically had to sit on top of Fred and George to keep them in their seats. Her brothers forgot all about Ginny, whose face was so flushed you could fry an egg on it. Luna and Lavender each put a hand on one of Ginny's wrists.
"Now, now, Draco, don't spoil the poor Weasleys' fun. This may well be the only time the maggots get to leave that hovel of theirs all year," Lucius tutted with a nasty grin that matched his son's.
"I suggest you move along unless you want to be swarmed by maggots," Bill said through gritted teeth.
"Well, Father, at least our seats are much better. So very near the pitch, and right next to the Minister himself," Draco curled his lip and made a show of traipsing all the way to the front of the room, several rows in front of the Weasleys' seats.
Luna spent the next several minutes glaring at the back of her cousin's head while some pretty boy Quidditch has-been began the ceremonies. She should have known he would be here. It had been stupid of her to accept Ginny's invitation, really. She didn't even like Quidditch and she certainly didn't like Draco Malfoy. When the opening ceremonies began, Harry and some of the Weasleys left their seats and began milling towards the front of the box where the views were better. But Luna staunchly remained in her seat.
Until the veela arrived. Luna could feel their magnetism before she could see them. Nearly everyone at the front of the box had their faces pressed against the glass.
"What do you think they're all looking at?" Lavender asked, but Luna was already on her feet and drifting towards the hubbub. She elbowed a few posh wizards in garishly poufy robes out of the way as the commentator introduced the Bulgarian mascots.
"What are they?" Ginny was next to Luna now, their shoulders pressed together as they gazed down at the women or vixens or creatures taking the field.
"Dunno," Luna stammered, "But whatever they are, they can dance."
They were magnificent. Somehow the curves of their bodies, their heart-shaped faces, the shimmer of their silver hair, and even their flirtatious smiles with twinkling pure-white teeth were visible from hundreds of feet away. They looked like what every man thought a woman should be and what every woman wanted to be. Luna found their hair was particularly entrancing. It was silvery white, like snow glistening in the sunlight, and it seemed to ripple and float in midair as if by magic. Surely that was the type of hair Luna was supposed to have, the hair her mother had seen on the raven queen's head in her vision, except black instead of white.
"They're veela. They're native to Bulgaria, but I'm surprised they were allowed to bring them as mascots," Bill had picked his way through the crowd to find the two girls. There was a somewhat curious look on his face as he looked at the veela on the pitch, then at Luna and Ginny, then back to the veela.
"So, they're like dancers or something?" Ginny asked. The gyrating rhythmic routine the veela were performing was unlike any dancing Luna had ever seen.
"Ha, no! Veela have their own magic; they can enchant most men. And some women, of course. That's why I'm surprised the Bulgarians were allowed to bring them. If the referees are enchanted, there might be accusations of bribery. There would be a whole inquiry at the Ministry, I'm sure."
When the referees and officials ushered the veela out of sight, the spell was broken. People blinked blearily as if they had just woken up from a trance and returned to their seats in a daze. The commentator had begun introducing the teams, each player flying a lap around the pitch and bowing to his adoring fans.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here."
Luna had been so engrossed by the veela that she hadn't realized Draco was standing near her. He must have come closer to watch the veela, too.
"Well, I know we have more in common than you might think, but even I must admit I never expected this!" His gray eyes searched hers to see if she understood his cryptic taunt.
"You can stop teasing, Draco, I know we're… you know."
"Cousins?" he smirked.
"Shut up, Malfoy. I'm sure Luna's embarrassed enough being related to you without you going and shouting it from the rooftops," Ginny snarled.
"And the Weasley girl is charmed by the veela too?! Oh, this is too rich. I suppose we know now what you girls get up to at that queer little coven of yours," he mocked.
"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Ginny shrieked, pouncing on him with her fists flailing. Ginny's temper always flared hot, but Luna froze. It felt as if she had been plunged up to her chest in icy water, paralyzed and painfully cold. She wished she had her blood knife.
"Ugh, get off me, you rat! Father, Father, help!" Draco shrieked.
Bill, Luna, and Lavender had just managed to pull Ginny off Draco when Mr. Weasley entered the box.
"Ah, Arthur, so marvelous to see you. I'd love an explanation as to why your daughter has just attacked my son," Lucius drawled, swatting away his wife's hand as she fussed with Draco's mussed hair and crumpled robes.
"He's a snot-nosed brat and a bully!" Ginny shouted. Everyone in the box was staring at the Weasleys and Malfoys instead of the pitch, where the players were circling the pitch waiting for the quaffle toss. The announcer was making a valiant but unsuccessful effort to continue his commentary as if nothing at all out of the ordinary was happening in the top box.
The Minister for Magic beckoned Percy with a lazy wave of the hand. Percy bustled over, bent down so the Minister could whisper in his ear, nodded grimly, and then came back to usher the families away from the window.
"The Minister says he doesn't care how you resolve this, but it ends now," he didn't look either Mr. Malfoy or his father in the eye, addressing the floor between their shoes.
"I'm sure Cornelius understands that the Weasley girl, or should I say your sister, instigated the attack…" Lucius began.
"Dad, Perc, you should have heard what came out of that kid's mouth. I'm not one for violence, but…" Bill cut him off, and then was interrupted in turn by Percy.
"The Minister says he doesn't care who started it. Put a stop to it or you'll all be kicked out," Percy said before turning his back on the Malfoys.
"And stop embarrassing me," he hissed to his own family before walking away to rejoin the Minister and his aides.
"Good one, Ginny," the twins clapped their sister on the back and carried her back to her seat on their shoulders. It was all Bill and Mr. Weasley could do to prevent them from singing "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow."
Mr. Weasley promised Ginny that there would be swift punishment as soon as they were home, but she didn't seem to care as long as she was allowed to stay and watch the match. For Ginny, the fight was soon forgotten in the excitement of watching the game. She sat on the edge of her seat, but her shoulders relaxed like melted butter and she got the dreamy look on her face she always had when talking about Quidditch.
Luna had a much harder time focusing on anything but the memory of Draco's pinched, unpleasant little face. She tried to watch the game, but the players were just anonymous splashes of color to her, the quaffle a barely visible flash of red that seemed to change hands faster than her eyes could follow it across the pitch. It was exhausting to watch, and much easier to fume. Draco's words echoed in her head. That queer little coven of yours. She knew that by now, word of the Circle must have spread beyond their safe circle of friends and neighbors. But how had Draco found out? Hearing the words on his lips made Luna feel dirty, unsafe. Like all the protection charms in the world couldn't make her forget that he knew about the existence of the Circle, the place she had created to be a safe haven from the world, from people like him.
The match ended without her noticing. Suddenly there was an uproar in the stands, and the commentator struggled to be heard over the roar of the crowd.
"What happened? Is it over?" Luna's eyes came back into focus and she squinted at the pitch. All of the Bulgarian players were flying towards one of their teammates, who had his fist raised in the air. Krum must have caught the Snitch after all.
"What, did Bulgaria win, then?" she asked Ginny. But Krum's teammates weren't cheering or lifting him into the air. They seemed to be yelling at him. The Irish team had stopped in midair as if they had suddenly realized what had happened, then began screaming, doing victory laps around the pitch.
"I…I can't believe I just witnessed that. I feel like I've had a religious experience," Ginny breathed. Her voice sounded throaty, like she was trying not to cry. Luna had no idea what had happened, and Ginny tried in vain to explain it to Luna several times, the brilliance of Krum's choice, the heartbreaking irony of it.
"That capture was a thing of beauty," Ron raved.
"Krum is a genius," Harry declared.
For once, Ginny agreed with Harry wholeheartedly.