The Bulgarian tents were upfield of the Irish. There was the Bulgarian flag waving in the breeze, so Dudley and his friends made their way towards it.
The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.
"Krum," said Ron quietly.
"What?" said Hermione.
"Krum!" said Ron. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"
"He looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many Krum's blinking and scowling at them.
"'Really grumpy?" Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."
After collecting the water from a pump, the group headed back through the camp site. Here and there, they saw more familiar faces from Hogwarts. Oliver Wood, the former Gryffindor quidditch captain dragged Ron over to meet his parents and told him that he had been signed to Puddlemere United's reserve team.
They also saw Ernie Macmillan. The plump Hufflepuff glared at them as they passed. Dudley had never liked Ernie and the feeling was mutual. During their second year, Ernie had insisted that Dudley had been the heir of Slytherin—a ludicrous accusation considering Dudley was muggleborn. Dudley had never forgiven him.
A little further along, they saw Cho Chang—a pretty girl who was the seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved at Ron who slopped a lot of water down his shirt when he waved back.
Dean and Dudley laughed at him, while Hermione looked irritated.
"Who are they?" Dean asked, pointing at a large group of unfamiliar teenagers.
"'Spect they go to some foreign school," said Ron. "I know there are others. Never met anyone who went to one, though. Bill had a penfriend at a school in Brazil...this was years and years ago...and he wanted to go on an exchange trip but Mum and Dad couldn't afford it. His penfriend got all offended when he said he wasn't going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up."
Dudley laughed but didn't mention that he hadn't realized there were other schools. It was common sense really, given that wizards were everywhere that Hogwarts wasn't the only one. He glanced at Hermione, she looked unsurprised at this information. Dudley supposed she had read about them.
"Did you know there were others?" he asked Dean in a low voice.
"No, well, I always thoughts there must be," Dean said. "But I never thought much about them. I suppose every country has its own wizarding school."
You've been ages," said George when they finally got back to the Weasleys' tents.
"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You've not got that fire started yet?"
"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred.
Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.
"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.
"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.
At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Dudley, Dean and Hermione's benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.
"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office...Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now...Hello, Arnie...Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know...and that's Bode and Croaker...they're Unspeakables..."
"They're what?"
"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to..."
At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.
"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"
They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them. "Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"
Ludo Bagman was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Dudley thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.
"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.
"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming...and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements...Not much for me to do!"
Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.
Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.
"Ah - yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny. This is Ginny's friend, Luna Lovegood, and these are Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Dudley Dursley."
"The same Dursley and Granger who caught Black?" Bagman asked.
Dudley nodded. "Yeah, that was us."
Bagman looked impressed. "I read about it in the Prophet. I hear you're getting training from Gilderoy?"
"Yeah, in memory charms," said Dudley.
"Useful skill to know," Bagman said. "I expect you'll see Gilderoy at some point. He's in the top box—the celebrity guest of honour."
"I didn't think Fudge liked Mr. Lockhart," Hermione said in surprise.
Bagman laughed. "Between us, he doesn't—but Lockhart's one of the country's most famous wizards. I expect Old Fudge wants to try to get him on side."
Dudley nodded. He knew Lockhart pretty well and considered him a friend. He was vain and arrogant. Plying him with awards and making him a celebrity guest of honour would definitely appeal to Lockhart's ego, so it was a smart move on Fudge's part. Dudley though, didn't think it would do much. He remembered what Lockhart had said in the summer about how he didn't think Fudge was up to the task of being Minister. In his opinion, Lockhart's sights were firmly set on getting Fudge from office. Dudley suspected Lockhart wanted one of his friends to get the position. Personally, Dudley didn't care much who was minister. He didn't have much interest in politics. But if Lockhart wanted a favour, he would be glad to help.
"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match."
"Oh...go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see...five Galleon on Ireland to win?"
"Five Galleons?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well...any other takers?"
"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like -"
"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."
"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that," Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.
"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"
Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.
"Boys," said Mr. Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting...That's all your savings...Your mother -"
"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance...I'll give you excellent odds on that one...We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we..."
Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.
"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr. Weasley.
"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."
"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll..."
"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."
Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.
"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" Mr. Weasley asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside them all.
"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha...memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."
"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.
"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh - talk of the devil! Barty!"
A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished. Dudley could see at once why Percy idolized him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager; Dudley doubted even Vernon would have spotted him for what he really was.
"Pull up a bit of grass, Barry," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.
"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."
"Oh is that what they're after?" said Bagman. I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."
"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of halfbow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes - thank you, Weatherby."
Fred and George choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.
"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."
Dudley found himself tuning out of the conversation. He didn't care much about politics or the goings on at the Ministry, unless it involved something like tracking down dark wizards such as Lucius Malfoy.
Dudley instead turned to Fred and George. "Ron says you're going to start a joke shop."
"Raising capital," Fred answered, with a look to make sure his father and Percy weren't listening. "It's why we gambled with old Bagman."
"I think owning a joke shop is a great idea," Luna said, joining in. "I think you would both be very good at it."
"Thanks, Luna," Fred said, surprised.
While the adults chattered about the Ministry, Fred and George told Dudley about some of the products they wanted to design from various fake wands to magical fireworks. It all sounded very impressive.
"Dudley! I knew I would find you here!" a jovial voice said. Dudley looked around, sure enough it was Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing magnificent robes of lavender. He wasn't wearing a beret this time and his looked especially wavy.
Fred and George snickered at the robes. Ron looked irritated. He had never liked Lockhart.
Lockhart wasn't alone. Accompanying him was a short, stocky wizard with a neatly trimmed beard and swept back hair.
"Mind if we join you and catch up?" Lockhart said. Without waiting to be given the go ahead, he pulled a silk cloth from his pocket, laid it on the floor and sat primly on it.
"Arthur, Ludo, Barty—good to see you!" Lockhart said.
Ludo Bagman greeted Lockhart warmly, it appeared the two new each other. Mr. Crouch merely nodded stiffly.
"I was just off, Gilderoy," Mr. Crouch said, rising to his feet. "Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians you know."
Bagman clambered to his feet and swigged the rest of his tea. "I'll see you all in the Top Box—I'm commenting."
Dudley got the impression that Barty Crouch didn't like Lockhart very much. They were polar opposites afterall—Crouch was stiff and proper whereas Lockhart was over-the-top and flamboyant.
"All enjoying yourselves?" Lockhart said, beaming around. "Should be a good event—I'm in the Top Box too. I'm the celebrity guest of honor—personal invite from Cornelius Fudge himself. Of course, it's not my first World Cup. I attended the one in Norway—free tickets from their Minister for Magic. A thank you for dealing with their troll problem—perks of being a freelance adventurer and author, Dudley," he winked. "Of course, I don't do it all for the freebies—my main satisfaction is ridding the world of dangerous beasts and wizards. Though, if a grateful person wants to slide some free tickets my way, or even better, a bottle of Ogden's Old Fire Whiskey, so be it."
Lockhart noticed Dudley cast a glance at his companion. "Sorry, I forgot to introduce you. Everyone, this is Julian Avery II—my publicist. He offered his services to me a few weeks ago and, well, it sounded like a good idea. Pay him to arrange my interviews and talks and guest appearances for me, while I can focus on the nitty-gritty."
Julian Avery II gave a mere nod as greeting. He remained standing, looking impatient and weary while Lockhart talked about the upcoming match and the possible tactics each team would use, speaking as if he was an expert on the matter. Dudley knew he had once been the Ravenclaw seeker, but the way Lockhart spoke, you'd have thought he played internationally himself.
Charlie had been a seeker too, so he, Ron and Lockhart began chatting about various games that they had played in at Hogwarts. It had been the first time Ron had ever had an actual conversation with the former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
While those three talked quidditch, Ginny and Luna were talking about the classes they had picked for next year. Luna had picked the Study of Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures, while Ginny had gone for Care of Magical Creatures and Divination.
"Unlucky," Dudley said, smirking. "Trelawney is a right old fraud. Hermione hated her."
"I did not hate her," Hermione said. "I just thought she was an awful teacher."
"We both quit," Dudley said, with a proud smile. "She kept predicting when I was gonna die and it got on my nerves."
After a while, Lockhart finally excused himself. He said farewell to the others, said to Ron "I'll send that book on quidditch tactics by Owl Post-written by a very good friend of mine!" and shook first Hermione's hand and then Dudley's.
"Enjoy the world cup, boys and girls" he said. "And the fun isn't going to stop there! Plenty of exciting things to come, eh Arthur? I half wish I was still at Hogwarts—Hogwarts be the guaranteed winner!"
"Dad, what's happening at Hogwarts?" Fred asked.
"Hogwarts will win what?" said George.
"You'll find out soon enough," said Mr. Weasley, smiling.
Authors Note
These few chapters don't deviate much from the original books, but things are gonna be shaken up pretty soon!