II. The Quidditch World Cup
Sirona and Saegon opted for eating their breakfast outside; it was musty inside of the tent that was hardly ever used, and the day was beautiful. They sat in little chairs, plates of food resting in their laps, and watched as Arthur Weasley tried and failed multiple times to light a campfire outside of his tent the Muggle way. They made silent bets every time he pulled a new match from his little box on whether this one would be the one.
"Ah! You almost had it that time, Mr. Weasley! Don't give up!" Sirona called from across the way when he'd dropped a match after having stricken it properly without breaking it. The Weasley twins shot her identical grins from where they sat, watching their father as well, offering no assistance.
"Why doesn't he just use his wand?" Saegon asked, his mouth crammed with grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, astonished at how long the older wizard had been at this without finally breaking. Sirona only shrugged as she watched Ron Weasley appear with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, carrying water along with them for the Weasleys. She watched as Hermione, always the kind one, helped Mr. Weasley get the fire started. She and Saegon clapped and cheered when the kindling started to smoke, drawing the attention of passers-by but not caring as they finished off their breakfasts.
Sirona stretched after sitting her empty plate on the ground beside her chair. She relaxed, eyes closed as she enjoyed the feeling of the warm sunlight on her face. Saegon was flipping through that morning's issue of the Dailey Prophet to get to the sports section, his reading glasses now sitting atop the bridge of his nose.
"Who d'ya reckon'll win?" he asked Sirona, not looking up from the paper. She mulled the question over in her head for a bit before finally shrugging; she wasn't good with knowing these types of things.
"Don't know." She peaked one eye opened and saw that the Weasley twins had disappeared into their tent, but Ginny was still outside. "Hey, Ginny, who do Fred and George think'll win?" she called to the younger girl.
The redhaired girl promptly disappeared into the tent, and Saegon rolled his eyes, muttering something about the twins that Sirona couldn't quite hear, but she knew it wasn't a glowing endorsement of the boys.
"What's your problem with the Weasleys?" she asked, closing her eyes again as she relaxed back into her chair.
"Haven't got a problem with the Weasleys, just the two you've chosen to pal around with," he said, and then, after some thought, added, "and maybe that Percy bloke too; he's so obsequious."
"You just don't like them because they turned your hair blue during our first year. Haven't you gotten over that already? I mean, you gave them detention for a week, Mr. Head Boy," Sirona teased.
"Should've given you a detention or two that year as well," Saegon said knowingly. Sirona put her hands up defensively.
"Hey, I had nothing to do with that particular prank, Periwinkle Prefect," she said, using the name that had spread about the school after the Weasleys' prank on her brother. Saegon rolled up the paper he was reading, reached over and wacked his sister on the head with it. Sirona's eyes shot open, ready to retaliate, but at that moment, Ginny popped her head back out of the Weasley tent.
"They say Ireland will win, but Krum will catch the Snitch!" she called. Sirona looked over at Saegon and shrugged.
"There you have it; if anyone knows anything about who's winning what, its Fred and George," she said.
The two sat there for a while longer, talking and catching up. Sirona was telling Saegon just how excited Damara was to start her first year and how Damona's nervousness seemed to match Damara's excitedness in equal parts. She told him how Cissonia was currently single, as Saegon preferred, but was bound to snatch up some poor boy within a month into the new term; Saegon scowled at the thought of it.
"It's not like anyone's breaking her heart," Sirona had assured him. "She's the one doing all of that."
This did little to comfort him. He didn't remember Sirona being this boy-crazy when she was Cissonia's age. Then again, by the time that Sirona had been Cissonia's age, Saegon had finished up his internship and moved to London. He used to pop by more frequently back in those days, but he had admittedly gotten a bit lax about it.
"Perhaps sometime this week before the start of term, we'll have a day to ourselves, just me, Sonia and the twins," he said. "That'll give us time to catch up, and it'll give you a day off from looking after them."
"I think that'd be beneficial for all," Sirona said.
Just as it started to seem that the Weasleys' fire had gotten hot enough to actually cook their breakfast — now lunch — on, the three eldest Weasley brothers came strolling out of the forest towards the tents. Sirona's eyes immediately took in Charlie Weasley's appearance. She hadn't seen him in what felt like ages with him being in Romania and all. His good looks hadn't diminished any over the years; in fact, working with the dragons must have really done wonders for the older boy because he was far more toned and muscular than he used to be. Her heart fluttered a bit as he brushed his red hair away from his eyes. Perhaps she wasn't quite over her schoolgirl crush.
Sirona sat a little straighter in her chair, combing her fingers through her hair once or twice as they came closer.
"Hi, Charlie," she called as he neared without being able to stop herself. Saegon took his reading glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had one little sister that apparently flirted far too often and another that had zero tact; clearly, Cissonia hadn't learned from Sirona. Nevertheless, Charlie broke away from his brothers and approached the two of them anyway.
"Little Sirona, is that you?" he jested. "My, you sure have grown up!"
Sirona's heart involuntarily swelled to hear him think this. She smiled, but her eyes widened as she saw the large, shiny burn he was sporting on one of his muscular arms. She jumped to her feet when he stopped a few feet in front of where she was sitting. Her fingers twitched, longing for an excuse to touch the boy's arm, but she thought better of it, not knowing how to make the action feel natural.
"How'd you manage that?" she asked, and he chuckled.
"Oh, you know how it is with dragons; got too close to a nest by mistake; nearly burned my whole bloody shirt off it did," he said, looking down at the scar. Saegon cleared his throat, and Sirona realised that he was standing now too.
"You remember my brother, Saegon," Sirona said, cutting her eyes towards her brother and silently begging for him to just leave her be, just this once. Charlie reached out and shook Saegon's hand.
"Yeah, how's the Ministry treating ya?"
"Well, it's not dragons, but I do get a bit of excitement every now and then."
"I suppose some of the people there are far worse than any dragon, ay, mate?"
Sirona laughed a bit too hard at the joke, and though Charlie didn't seem to notice — Saegon had, as he'd shot her a semi-concerned, semi-amused look — Sirona wanted the ground to open up and swallow her; if she had known the spell for such, she would have thrown herself into earth willingly. She wasn't sure what is was about Charlie, but she always turned into an ignoramus whenever he was around.
"So, how are the dragons?"
Sirona's eyes widened at her own question, asking after the dragons he worked with as though they were his children or something. What a lame question; she was a complete moron. However, Charlie didn't seem to mind the question as he rambled on about the dragons in his care. Saegon had walked back into the tent during this time, finding solace in the fact that even if Sirona had been old enough for Charlie to give the time of day, she would screw her chances all her own with the way she was acting.
A moment later, Charlie left for his own tent, going to eat lunch and spend time with his family. Sirona made her way back into her tent to find Saegon sprawled out on the old, lumpy couch, looking up at the tent ceiling.
"'How are the dragons?'" he asked in an incredulous voice, as he chuckled at her expense.
"Oh, shut it," Sirona said, falling into an old, green-coloured chair and busying herself with picking at the bits of foam poking through holes in the cushion fabric.
"Well, at least I know I never have to worry about running boys away from ya; you do that well enough on your own," Saegon teased, and Sirona flicked a piece of cushion foam at him.
"Like you could do any better. 'Oh, Maeve. I love that name; I like the colour too,'" she said, imitating a conversation she'd once overheard him having with a girl named Maeve Connors during his last year at Hogwarts. "Maeve's not a colour, you idiot; it's mauve, and you don't even like purple. It's no wonder I'm hopeless; I had you as my mentor."
Saegon grabbed one of the pillows he was resting on and threw it at his sister, but she swatted it away before it could hit her in the face, pulling out green and white face paint from her bag as she got to work plastering shamrocks on her cheeks in support of Ireland. They sat there for a while, continuing to make fun of one another's lack of a love life due largely in part to their shared affliction of turning into utter idiots when the objects of their affections were near. Their teasing stopped, however, upon hearing a loud, booming sound from somewhere beyond the forest in which they'd arrived.
Saegon stood and pulled Sirona to her feet as well, and the siblings made their way out of their tent, following the crowd now headed for the woods. They were behind a group of particularly lively Irish wizards, who seemed to have been hitting the Firewhiskey a bit early that day in support of their team. Sirona was enjoying their drunken songs when an arm landed on her shoulders.
"So, the dragons, huh?" Sirona looked up into the grinning face of George, and she shoved him off her as Fred appeared on her other side. Clearly, their conversation with Ludo Bagman hadn't stopped them from overhearing her desperate attempt to claw her way through a conversation with their older brother. Sirona looked behind them, seeing the rest of their family not far behind.
"Stop making fun of me or I'll let Saegon have a go at ya."
"We're not afraid of him," Fred declared, though his voice seemed to be quieter than it normally was.
"Speak for yourself, Freddie. He may not be Head Boy anymore, but remember that time he chased us all the way from Sirona's to home just because we accidentally set fire to his broomstick?"
"I still think that was an overreaction," Fred replied at the same that Sirona repeated in a disbelieving tone, "'Accidentally?'"
"Over five miles, running the whole way," George complained. "I had shin splints for days!"
Sirona glanced up at the back of her brother's head as he was now walking a few people ahead of her. She smiled a little at the memory of him running the twins from the house.
"You bloody deserved it," she said. "That was a perfectly good broom, one that was meant to be mine. I almost didn't get to try out for the Quidditch team that year. A perfect Comet 220 ruined by you two."
"We've already apologised for that," George defended.
"Besides, you got a new Nimbus 1700 out of it, so you really should be thanking us. Everyone knows that Nimbus was the reason you even made the team," Fred teased.
"First of all, Saegon had to dip into his savings to buy me that broom, so if I should thank anyone, it's him. Secondly, I could fly circles around you on the pitch, and you both know it. Shall I remind you of that horrid game you played in second year?"
"No, you shall not because that game was an utter embarrassment and in no way showcases our skills as Beaters," George said.
"Besides, Gryffindor won that game," Fred defended.
"Only because Charlie caught the Snitch before you two could make bigger fools of yourselves. I almost fell off my broomstick I was laughing so hard. George, when you —"
Suddenly, a freckled hand came around Sirona's face and clamped itself tightly over her mouth. Sirona looked at the twins in mild surprise before tilting her head back to see who her captor was; though, she already had a good guess from the callouses that brushed over her skin.
"Now, that's quite uncalled for, Miss Sirona," Charlie said, smiling down at her. "Bordeaux," he called out to Saegon, "collect your sister and tell her to stop bringing up bad memories; she's bullying my brothers."
Charlie laughed as he released Sirona and pushed her forward playfully to get her to continue walking, and she stumbled a bit, moving forward dreamily now from having had Charlie so close to her. Merlin, she was hopeless.
"No doubt they deserve it," Saegon said, only glancing back at them casually as he walked.
"They might, but I don't," Charlie said. "I'll remind you that I was the captain that year, and those two made me look incompetent, and on my last ever game."
Sirona blushed a bit as Charlie playfully ruffled her hair. He passed her to catch up with his brother, Bill, and she sighed as she watched his broad back disappear into the crowd. Fred and George looked at each other and made fake gagging noises from behind her.
After fifteen more minutes, they appeared at the other side of the trees, and Sirona looked up in awe at the enormous golden walls of the stadium; she overheard Mr. Weasley telling Harry that it seated one hundred thousand people. She quickly caught up with Saegon and smiled excitedly as he handed her a ticket.
"Hi, Saegon," said the young Ministry witch at the entrance when they handed over their tickets to her.
"Oh, hi, Claire," he responded, completely oblivious to the dreamy look in the girl's eyes. Had she not been so anxious to get inside, and had there not been a line of people behind them, Sirona would have poked fun at the situation.
"Third box from the top," Claire informed them as she checked their tickets, and the two set out on their climb to their seats, picking up programs as they entered.
Saegon took Sirona's hand, eagerly pulling her up each flight of stairs, and she struggled not to fall or trip as she tried to keep his pace as she was shorter than him and had a smaller stride. When he finally pulled her into their box, she immediately fell into a chair to catch her breath. Saegon gave her a cheeky grin as she gasped for breath.
"Out of shape, are we?"
She threw her tasselled program at him, but he quickly dodged it, coming to sit beside her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders as he looked out over the pitch. He opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, more people strolled into the box.
"Solan!"
Saegon and Sirona both turned to see a blond-haired man with hard, blunt features approaching them. Saegon stood again as the man came forward, but Sirona stayed seated. She couldn't quite place it, but there was something oddly familiar about this man. Whatever memory her mind was trying to grasp at — if there was really one to find at all — didn't seem to be a particularly pleasant one because when she looked at the man, she felt the smallest bit of fear.
"It's Solan-Bordeaux actually, Sir," Saegon corrected the man as he shook his hand. There was something off in her brother's voice as he spoke, and Sirona wondered if the man's presence made Saegon uneasy as well. "Or just Bordeaux."
The man nodded; though, he didn't seem interested in his slight blunder as he was now looking down at Sirona with cold, blue eyes. She wanted to shrink away from him, but she still wasn't sure why she was feeling this way; after all, she couldn't recall ever meeting the man, and she was certain that she would have remembered if she had.
"And this must be . . . ?"
"My little sister, Sir. Sirona, this is Corban Yaxley. I work under him in my department at the Ministry," Saegon said, and Sirona forced herself to stand so as not to seem rude in front of her brother's boss.
"Ah, yes, Saegon speaks very fondly of you — and your other siblings of course."
Sirona forced a smile and a soft, "Nice to meet you," before Mr. Yaxley walked away, taking a seat a few rows back from them. She and her brother sat back down, and she leaned in close to whisper, "Do I know him?"
Saegon shook his head.
"Not that I'm aware," he whispered back. "Why?"
Sirona shrugged.
"I've just got this weird feeling like I've met him before."
Saegon drummed his fingers on his legs nervously at her admission, seeming to think really hard about something.
"Yeah, I felt the same way when I came to work at the Ministry, and I still get this feeling like I know him from someplace other than work whenever I see him, but I just can't place it," he told her. He paused for a moment, seeming to think about something. "Though, he knew Dad, so maybe we met him when we were younger?"
Sirona's eyebrows shot up at this news.
"He knew our father?"
"Yeah, he was one of the first people I questioned about it when I got to the Ministry. Didn't really have a lot of information that was helpful; though, he said I could come to him if I ever needed any more questions answered," Saegon said. "Honestly, between you and me, I don't particularly care for him; I've been asking him not to call me Solan since I started working for him, but he doesn't really pay attention."
Sirona discreetly turned her head to look over her shoulder at the blond-haired man, who seemed lost in conversation with an older man with greying hair and a round face. A chill ran down Sirona's spine, and she quickly snapped her head back to look forward.
"He gives me the creeps," she whispered. Saegon frowned slightly and rested his arm on the back of her chair in a sort of protective manner.
"Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome!" echoed a booming voice that made Sirona's heart stop functioning for a moment. "Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
Saegon and Sirona looked at each other, grins on their faces, any thoughts of Yaxley completely erased. They cheered and clapped happily with the rest of the spectators around the stadium. This was Sirona's first time ever watching a professional Quidditch match, and it was the World Cup no less! She couldn't have been happier.
"Hey, Saegon, thanks for bringing me," she said as Ludo Bagman's voice announced the arrival of the Bulgarian mascots.
"Well, who else would I bring? Sonia and Mona don't care for Quidditch, and Mara would get me into too much trouble," he teased as the veela glided out onto the field. Saegon quickly covered his ears and looked down at his shoes. "Tell me when it's over."
Sirona laughed at him as she watched the beautiful creatures perform their dance. She watched curiously as a boy on their row seemingly tried to launch himself from the box, and his mother grabbed hold of him, wrestling him back into his seat. Sirona tapped Saegon on his shoulder when the music was stopped and the Irish mascots were introduced. She had a fun time catching the gold coins as they fell from above.
"Surely, this isn't real," she stated, inspecting one of the Galleons. Saegon caught one as it fell and rolled it over his knuckles expertly.
"Probably just Leprechaun gold," he told her, and she sighed; though, she pocketed a handful of the coins on the off chance that he was wrong.
She and Saegon watched as the Bulgarian starting line-up flew out into the pitch, followed by the Irish. Before she could think too long on how Viktor Krum was only a year or so older than herself, the game was starting. She watched, awestruck, as Troy, Mullet and Moran played. As a Chaser for the Ravenclaw house team, she knew that the three Irish Chasers were absolutely flawless. She, Roger Davies and Terrance Bradley had never flown that seamlessly together, and realistically, they probably never would.
They watched as the players dashed around the pitch, sometimes looking more like tiny streaks instead of actual people on broomsticks. They cheered loudly when Ireland scored, Saegon making a show of shooting tiny green stars from his wand. During the time that the score was thirty to ten with Ireland in the lead, Sirona jumped anxiously to her feet.
"I think Krum's found the Snitch!" she said, watching as both he and the Irish Seeker plummeted to the ground with increasing speed. Saegon pulled her back into her seat, and they watched with bated breath as the Seekers dove to the ground, getting closer and closer until —
Sirona covered her eyes, but she could hear the dull thud of Lynch, Ireland's Seeker, coming into contact with the ground, followed by the groans and grumbling of the fans, including her brother. She removed her hands from her eyes in time to see mediwizards rushing onto the field to revive Lynch, who lay motionless on the ground. Saegon let out a low whistle.
"Full speed into the ground and on a Firebolt no less," he said. "That's got to be painful."
"Is that what they're flying on? Blimey, are we sure he isn't dead?" she asked, squinting as though she could make her eyes zoom onto the poor fellow to see if he was moving at all.
"Nah, he's moving his head," said an unconcerned-sounding wizard, who was sitting behind them with a pair of Omnioculars pressed to his face. He turned a dial and sucked in a sharp breath as he watched something that Sirona could not see. "That had to hurt, though. Wanna see?"
Assuming that it was a replay of the impact, Sirona shook her head, but Saegon grabbed the Omnioculars from the man and watched it all in slow-motion.
"Surprised the broom didn't break," he said, handing the device back to the man behind them. "Those Firebolts are durable."
"That Harry Potter's got a Firebolt. Wiped the floor with Cho in our last match, he did," Sirona said. "Not that we were playing our best that game anyway. Suppose there's always this year though. Roger'll probably push us harder than ever."
Saegon smiled as though he knew something that Sirona did not, and she frowned. She poked him in the side and demanded to be let in on what was so funny, but Saegon only chuckled and shook his head. Sirona would have pressed the matter further, but Lynch had gotten to his feet, and the sudden excited cheers and roaring of the crowd distracted her as the game resumed.
The two watched the rest of the game, giggling when the referee had to send the veela off the field due to being distracted by the creatures. The siblings had a hard time concentrating on the game when the veela and leprechauns started fighting each other out on the field, forcing Ministry wizards to interfere. However, when Moran scored, they're eyes were pulled back up to the players in the air, and seemingly just in time because Quigley hit a Bludger right into Krum's face.
Both Sirona and Saegon winced as the black ball made contact with the Bulgarian Seeker's face. As Quidditch players themselves — Saegon had been a Chaser for Slytherin during his time at Hogwarts — they both knew what it was like to be smacked around by a Bludger, but neither one had been so unfortunate to ever be hit in the face by one. Though, Viktor Krum did not seem to be having a particularly lucky day, as almost directly after he'd been battered by the Bludger, a fireball, shot from one of the angry veela down below, had set the referee's broomstick tail aflame; therefore, no whistle was blown to stop the game for the injured Seeker.
"Talk about bad luck," said the wizard sitting behind them as he zoomed in on Krum with his Omnioculars, no doubt replaying the bloody scene. Sirona jumped to her feet excitedly, pointing to something else happening on the field.
"Lynch has seen the Snitch!"
Saegon did not pull her back down this time; instead, he rose to his feet as well as they watched Lynch take a dive, followed closely by an injured Krum, who was still managing to gain on Lynch despite his situation. They sped towards the ground, and Sirona forced herself to watch this time as the two neared the field. With wide eyes, she watched as Krum caught the little Snitch and Lynch crashed into the ground for the second time that night. Her eyes flicked to the scoreboard — BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170.
"I'll be damned! Fred and George were spot on!" she exclaimed in a disbelieving tone as she recalled their prediction from earlier. Saegon wasn't listening, however, and he grabbed her around the waist and spun around happily at Ireland's victory as the crowd roared.
"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" came Bagman's voice.
Saegon put Sirona down, and they both turned to look up at the Top Box, which was now illuminated so that the crowd could see inside. Sirona smiled as she could make out a number of redhaired people inside the box.
"Well, if I'd known they had tickets for the Top Box, I would've flirted with Charlie Weasley myself," Saegon said, laughing and causing Sirona to roll her eyes as the Bulgarian team entered the box first.
"Good game, wasn't it?"
Sirona jumped at the voice, and as they turned to see Yaxley standing behind them, she inched closer to her brother, still not quite sure where the fear of this man was coming from. Sirona could only nod as her brother gave his best, "Yes, Sir."
"Wonder if I might have a word with you?" he asked Saegon in a more business-like tone, and Sirona's eyes flicked from Yaxley to her brother in a concerned manner. Saegon's demeanour shifted as well, and Sirona could tell that he had no clue what this was about either.
"Certainly, Sir," he said, and Yaxley motioned for him to follow him out of the box. "Just wait here for me to come back, Rona."
Sirona watched as the two disappeared just around the doorway of the box, and she sat back down in her seat, bouncing her leg anxiously, trying to make herself stop worrying about the strange man. After all, he was Saegon's boss; he was probably talking to him about Ministry business.
People were starting to clear out of the box when Saegon reappeared. Sirona stood from her seat and went to his side.
"What was that about?"
"Ah, it's nothing. They just want me to help work tonight's security detail. The mascot incident left them just a bit shorthanded," he explained with a dismissive wave of his hand, and Sirona let out a sigh.
"Well, can't they get someone else to do it? Who am I supposed to celebrate with?" she complained loudly, and Saegon playfully flicked her on the forehead.
"It's my job," he reminded her. "Besides, the Ministry's the only reason I was able to get these tickets. Can't go seeming ungrateful now, can I?"
Sirona sighed dramatically once more, but she supposed he had a good point, so she grumbled out a, "Fine."
"Good on ya," he said. "Now, get back to the campsite, and no unnecessary detours. Celebrate with the Weasleys if you must, but for the love of Merlin, don't talk to Charlie. I think you've made a big enough fool of yourself for one day."
Sirona went to hit him in the arm, but he dodged her attack, a cheeky grin on his face. She rolled her eyes but gave him a hug anyway before he left the box again. She gathered their programs as keepsakes of the great time they'd had there before making her way out of the box and towards the purple-carpeted stairs.