Chapter Sixty-Four - The Quidditch World Cup
Harry, accompanied by his friends and guardians, followed the crowd that was making its way toward the stadium. Despite the excitement to begin, progress was slow, as salespeople began apparating along their path every few feet. The attraction of the wares displayed on their trays was too tempting for passerby, and Harry had to hold fast to the hem of Blaise's jacket to prevent himself from getting separated as they dodged loitering groups of shoppers.
They were not interested in the luminous rosettes in the two team colors, nor by the ridiculous pointed hats adorned with green shamrocks. Harry's feet began to slow, however, as he noticed a tiny model Firebolt that was flying around the head of one of the vendors. He finally came to a complete stop, tugging on Blaise to get his attention, when he spied one witch who was selling collectible figures of the players themselves.
"Reckon they have one of Krum?" he asked with interest.
Blaise's eyes lit up with delight. "Better see before they're all sold out!"
Waving to the rest of their group, Harry and Blaise gathered by the witch, eagerly searching the faces of the tiny, moving figurines for Krum's familiar features. Blaise snatched one up first, but Harry was more gentle. He wasn't sure if the little figures felt pain. He found one that had a particularly dark scowl and plucked him up by the collar of his robes, setting him in the palm of his hand. Fascinated, he watched as the miniature Krum stalked back and forth, glaring up at him. He was a bit duck-footed, and Harry wondered if this was a trait he shared with his likeness, or rather a manufacturing error.
Millie rolled her eyes when she saw their purchases, though she couldn't resist a scarf in the colors of Ireland. Harry thought the green would go nicely with their school uniforms, and bought one for himself.
"Kids, over here!" called Sirius's voice. Harry turned to see that he and Mrs. Zabini were standing by a cart piled high with what appeared to be brass binoculars.
"Omnioculars," corrected the young saleswizard when Harry asked a question aloud, "Replay action, slow it all down, play-by-play breakdown…" He spoke the familiar words of his pitch quickly, barely taking a moment to breathe, "Bargain at ten Galleons each."
Harry had been left a small fortune by his parents, and Blaise was accustomed to the wealth left by six deceased step-fathers, but they knew the value of a Galleon. The Omnioculars sounded excellent, but he failed to see how at ten Galleons each they were a bargain. This did not stop Sirius, who without hesitation purchased one each for himself Remus, Harry and Millie. His generosity would have extended to Blaise as well, had not Mrs. Zabini insisted that she purchase them for herself and her son.
"You'll need it for the Top Box, at any rate," she said, handing over the gift, "Ludo tells me it's the best way to enjoy the game."
They found Bagman himself waiting near the entrance to the stadium. It was located on the far side of the wood from the campsite, its immense gold walls towering far above the treeline, shining from the light of a thousand green and red lanterns. Harry wondered that he hadn't seen the structure from their tent before, but then he realized it must be cloaked with magic to hide it from any passing Muggles.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Bagman shouted happily as they approached. His booming voice was barely audible over the much louder conversations from thousands of witches and wizards making their way into the stadium. "Seats over a hundred thousand. Took five hundred of the Ministry's best working on it all year, self included."
Bagman did not wait to be praised for his hard work. He gallantly offered Mrs. Zabini his arm and motioned for the others to follow close as he made his way up a staircase carpeted in deep purple. Harry suspected he took as little direct action in the building of the stadium as he had in managing the event itself. Bagman seemed to take a more "hands-off" approach to his ministerial duties.
They had to climb several stories to the Top Box. Even walking the stairs at Hogwarts had not prepared Harry for such exercise, and he wondered that the portly Bagman could do it without becoming winded. It amazed him that with all their magic, they had not installed something as simple as a lift.
Just as he thought his legs would give way, they reached the highest point of the stadium and emerged into a small box, set directly between the two sets of goal posts. The box, though small, was spacious enough to contain about twenty armchairs, gilded about the head and armrests and upholstered in the same rich purple as the carpet.
Harry was surprised to see that they were not the only family invited to watch the match from so impressive a situation. It looked as though the entire Weasley family had turned out on this occasion, and had already taken the first two rows of seats to the left of the box. Ron Weasley looked just as surprised to see Harry as he was to see him, but he was rather more discomposed by the sight of Sirius Black. Although Sirius was publicly cleared of his crimes, Ron had first-hand experience of the night he was nearly captured by a hoard of Dementors. He had been present during the chaotic chase that eventually led to the capture of Peter Pettigrew, though Ron had believed it to be his rat Scabbers at the time. The experience had not helped his relationship with Harry. He had even accused Harry of being cursed.
Not everyone in his family appeared to share Ron's dislike, however. An older man with red hair, presumably Ron's father, stepped forward to be introduced. He seemed perfectly unaware of his son's grudge against Harry, or at the very least, he had the tact to pretend he hadn't heard his son's complaints against him.
"Arthur Weasley," he said with a friendly smile after asking Bagman to act as intermediary, "I can't tell you what an honor this is to meet you at last, Harry."
Harry never knew how to reply when people said things like this. Fortunately, he was spared by Ron's older brother Percy, who was eager for notice. Percy had been Head Boy at Hogwarts last year. He must have seen Harry at school a hundred times, but they had never exchanged more than a few words with each other. Judging from his rather formal pinstripe robes, he had taken a job at the ministry since graduation. He put himself forward with pompous formality that exactly resembled his behavior at school, and recommended himself to Mrs. Zabini as well. She seemed to think the overtures impertinent, and viewed him with open astonishment as he actually bent to kiss her hand.
Blaise had to stifle his giggles. "Who does he think mum is?" he whispered to Harry.
"Maybe he thinks she's a foreign minister?" Harry suggested.
Percy's attitude seemed to confirm Harry's theory, as he barely glanced at Sirius and Remus before jumping to greet each important looking minister to follow them into the box. He nearly tripped over his own feet to pay respect to Cornelius Fudge, who was next to arrive. The Minister for Magic was talking loudly to the minister of Bulgaria. Harry was so busy watching Percy and trying to hide his smile that he didn't think to avoid Fudge's eye.
"Hello, Harry! I didn't know I would be seeing you today!" he said.
Harry made some comment about being there with his godfather, but Fudge shied away from any recognition of Sirius. It must have been awkward for him, as he'd had to personally issue a public apology for Sirius's unlawful incarceration, not to mention the mishandling of Peter Pettigrew, which led to his escape. He appeared not to hear Harry, and turned his attention back to the Bulgarian minister.
"Harry! Potter!" he nearly shouted into the face of the man following him, "The! Boy! Who! Lived! Understand? Oh nevermind, they can't speak a word of English…"
Before Harry could observe that if this were true, shouting at them wasn't going to improve things, a look of recognition crossed the foreign minister's face. He broke into a smile, and eagerly seized Harry's hand, saying in heavily accented English, "Such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter."
"You speak English?!" Fudge said, spluttering over the words.
"Yes, I speak many languages. English is no problem."
Looking to distract himself from any further introductions, Harry glanced around the rest of the box and noticed for the first time a house elf, seated alone with her face buried in her hands. Harry had met three house elves in his life. The first was Torsh, the house elf who worked for Mrs. Zabini. The second was Dobby, who he had freed from the Malfoys during his second year at Hogwarts. Then there was Kreacher, who lived at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and who was so unpleasant that Harry tried to avoid him as often as possible.
Harry had never been able to determine Torsh's gender with any satisfaction. He was too embarrassed to ask the house elf directly, and his veiled hints to Blaise merely resulted in a blank stare and the vague reply, "Torsh is just Torsh, Harry." But his experiences with Dobby and Kreacher, both male, convinced him by contrast that the small elf trembling in her seat was female.
He wondered if the empty seat next to her was being saved for her master., but before he could think to ask or say something to her, another family walked into the box. It was the Malfoys, the same family he had once robbed of an elf. They stopped to speak to Minister Fudge. Lucious Malfoy noticed Harry first, then his gaze drifted toward Sirius, standing over Harry's shoulder. He turned away then, his expression impassive, until he noticed the Weasleys. Whatever his feelings toward Harry, he could not disguise his chagrin on seeing the Weasleys in the same box occupied by his own family.
The moment passed away when Narcissa Malfoy, also glancing around the box, saw Mrs. Zabini sitting by Ludo Bagman. Blaise's mother rose from her seat and greeted Mrs. Malfoy as an old friend.
Draco was standing near his mother's side. He smirked at Harry as he took one of the higher seats in the box, a position of honor for the Malfoys right next to Minister Fudge. Harry might have said something cheeky to him, but Millie cautioned him not to go picking a fight before the match.
It was nearly time to begin. Harry and his party took their seats in the front row, on the right side opposite from the Weasleys. The Top Box was now nearly full, but for the empty seat next to the timid house elf. Harry wondered what she could be doing there by herself when she was obviously uncomfortable with heights. If she was waiting on her master, then they could at least have the decency to arrive on time so she could be dismissed.
As Harry wondered what family she served, Ludo Bagman rose from his seat and raised his wand to his throat. The spell magnified his voice over the roar of the crowd as he welcomed everyone to the final of the Quidditch World Cup tournament. Harry, staring at the program Millie had opened on her lap, saw that the teams would be introduced after the appearance of mascots from their home countries. Just as he was beginning to wonder what sort of creatures the two teams would bring, the Bulgarian mascots flooded the field, and suddenly Harry had no more thought to spare for frightened house elves.
"Veela!" Sirius said with a laugh, "You're in for a treat, boys!"
Harry and Blaise did not need to be told. He had never heard of veela before, but he could tell at a glance that they were the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen. They might have been even more lovely than Mrs. Zabini who, prior to this moment, Harry had considered the ideal of female beauty. But the veela couldn't possibly be human. Harry was awestruck by them as they danced about the field. What could make their skin glow like moonlight? How could their hair, as silver and delicate as a spiders' web, manage to flow around them in such a perfectly smooth curtain?
"Harry!" Millie said with a sharp cry, "What are you doing?"
Harry hadn't realized he'd gotten out of his seat. He'd been thinking about the beautiful veela. They made him feel very strange, like he couldn't think properly. He only knew that he had to do something impressive. Had to get them to notice him somehow. But they would never see him all the way up in that box. Perhaps If he jumped down…
Millie grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked him back down to his chair. Blaise was also being put to rights by his own mother, who looked at him pityingly and shook her head.
"What happened?" Harry asked as the veela finished their song, "Why was I standing up?"
Sirius was having a good laugh at Harry's expense. Like Millie and Mrs. Zabini, he seemed immune to the veela's charms.
"That's veela for you," he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "You can open your eyes now, Moony."
Remus, seated on Sirius's other side, had avoided looking at the veela entirely. Being their former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he must have been familiar with the effects of the creatures, and took precautions.
The Irish team's representatives came next, and Harry was delighted with their display, enjoying it even more for the fact that his mind was unclouded. It started with what appeared to be a great gold comet, which soared around the stadium in one long loop before splitting in two. Each half then darted toward the goal posts, and a rainbow arched across the center.
"Leprechauns!" Sirius said appreciatively, "Look closely, Harry!"
Harry squinted as the two balls of light collided once more, this time forming a great shimmering shamrock. Thinking quickly of his Omnioculars, Harry put them to his face, adjusting the dials until he could zoom in on the shamrock itself, which had begun to circuit over the heads of the crowd. What he had first considered merely twinkling lights were really hundreds of tiny bearded men, each holding a green or gold lantern in his hand. They were laughing as they began to drop large gold coins over the heads of the spectators. Millie seemed interested in pocketing as much as she could of the gold until Blaise told her not to bother.
"Leprechaun gold is all fake. It'll disappear after a day," he said.
Millie, frowning with disappointment, dropped the gold to the ground.
"Then what's the point?" she muttered to Harry.
Once the shamrock had dissolved and the leprechauns took their places along the side of the field, opposite the veela, it was time for the game to begin. Bagman, his wand poised at his throat once more, announced the names of the Bulgarian team. One by one they shot onto the field from an entrance far below, clad in their red robes.
"Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Volkov! Vulchanov! Aaand… Krum!"
The cheers rose to a crescendo as Bagman shouted the last name. Blaise and Harry had their omnioculars glued to their faces, already tracing the path of their favorite player.
Viktor Krum looked very much like the figures they purchased, only thinner and with a larger, curved nose. He was fast, too. Both teams were playing on Firebolts, but as the players took a circle around the field, Krum easily outstripped them all, though he had been introduced last.
Then Bagman introduced the Irish team, and the players, in robes of green, flitted onto the field as he called their names.
"Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! And Lynch!"
The referee was next. He released the Bludgers first, followed by the Golden Snitch. Harry spotted the tiny, glimmering gold ball only a moment before it darted out of sight. Then the Quaffle was released, and they were off. Bagman struggled to keep up with the action. The players were so fast, their passing of the Quaffle so clean and efficient, Bagman only had time to announce the name of the player currently holding the ball before it was tossed again.
Harry had never seen Quidditch played like this before. He spent a good deal of time practicing at school and trying to catch the Snitch Blaise had gifted him years ago. He had read all the magazines and any books on Quidditch he could find. But this was the first professional game he had seen, and it was breathtaking.
He was glad Sirius had purchased the Omnioculars. He could slow the plays down and press the play-by-play button as often as he liked, learning the new formations as their names flashed along the lenses in glittering purple font.
But he quickly found that this lesson would have to wait for another time. Ireland scored the first point while he was busy watching the Porskoff Ploy in slow motion. He quickly adjusted the speed on his Omnioculars back to normal and pressed the device against the lenses of his glasses with renewed interest in the ongoing action. He had to admit that the Irish Chasers were the best in the league. Their teamwork was flawless, their coordination almost robotic in its efficiency. It was as if they could read each other's minds. Within ten minutes, they had scored twice more, bringing the score to thirty-zero.
But the Bulgarians had not made it this far in the tournament without reason. Whereas the Irish relied heavily on their seamless teamwork, Bulgaria was known for the outstanding individuals that made up their team. Krum was the favorite, of course, but the Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, were among the best in the world. They seemed to have a knack for aiming Bludgers at the perfect moment, and their swings were starting to disrupt some of the Irish Chasers' more clever formations.
It was due to the incessant barrage from the Bludgers that an opening appeared for Ivanova, who dodged past the Irish Keeper and scored the first goal for Bulargia.
"Fingers in your ears!" warned Remus as the veela began to dance in celebration. Harry noticed that he had taken this precaution himself and shut his eyes as well, though Sirius continued to watch the field with interest.
Harry followed his example, closing his eyes for good measure. He wanted to be able to keep his mind on the game. When he finally chanced to peak at the field again, he saw that Bulgaria was once more in possession of the Quaffle. Bagman's booming voice continued to shout the names of the players, trying to keep up with the action. Then he gasped, and one hundred thousand voices joined him. The two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, had begun to dive, plunging right though the Chasers and scattering them. Harry was confused. He followed them with his Omnioculars, but he couldn't see the Snitch.
"They're going to crash!" shouted Millie.
She was half right. At the last second, Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch was not so lucky. He hit the ground with a dull thud that reached them all the way in the Top Box. Screams and groans rose from the Irish supporters as a timeout was called, and mediwizards rushed the field to examine Lynch.
"He was feinting!" Harry said as he pressed the play-by-play button on his Omnioculars. His eyes had not deceived him. The Snitch was never there. Krum was merely drawing Lynch into a diversion that had paid off. He watched the action again in slow motion as the words Wronski Defensive Feint shimmered across the lens.
Harry readjusted the Omnioculars to regular speed and trained his vision on Krum once more. He seemed weightless on his broom, as if flying were more natural to him than breathing. He circled overhead while Lynch was revived hundreds of feet below, his eyes never stopping their search around the stadium. He was still looking for the Snitch, and was using this time-out to continue his search without interference from the gameplay.
Lynch climbed unsteadily to his feet, waving to the cheering crowd who was relieved to see him stand unsupported. He returned to his broom, a look of determination on his face. His team seemed to gather more energy from his example, and the match continued with as much ferocity as it had started. Ireland was widening their lead. Bulgaria had still only managed to score ten points to their one hundred and thirty.
The Bulgarians were getting desperate. Their Keeper illegally elbowed one of the Irish Chasers, earning a penalty. The leprechauns began to taunt the veela in response, who lept to their feet, tossed their beautiful long hair, and began to dance again. Harry started to stuff his fingers into his ears, but then the referee took to the field. He seemed to be making overtures to the veela, and Harry found himself more amused than enchanted as he watched the bald, mustachioed man flex for the dancing women.
What resulted was a mediwitch rushing over to the referee and slapping him hard across the face. He seemed to come to his senses, and rather than get angry at the witch who had slapped him, he turned against the veela with angry gestures.
"This is a first," Bagman announced, "Unless I am mistaken, Mostafa is attempting to send the Bulargian mascots off the field!"
The two Bulgarian Beaters landed on either side of the referee and began to argue with him, resulting in two more penalties in favor of Ireland. This did not help the Bulgarian's morale. As the Beaters took to the air once more, it was with a savage bloodthirst that nearly frightened Harry. They didn't seem to care if their clubs connected with broom or Bludger. And they were not alone. The entire Bulgarian team doubled their aggression, and after Dimitrov nearly knocked Moran off her broom, a foul was declared.
The leprechauns continued to mock the veela, and Harry was surprised by the result. The veela, once gorgeous women, launched themselves across the field and began throwing what appeared to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. They didn't look so beautiful now. Their faces had lengthened into long, sharp beaks. From their smooth, white shoulders sprouted scaly, dark wings. They looked like some cross between a dragon and a bird of prey.
"You know," Millie said as ministry wizards sprinted across the field to break up the two team mascots, "I think I prefer them this way."
Meanwhile, the match had continued uninterrupted. Bagman's voice rose as Ireland scored once more. Then an Irish Beater took a swing at a Bludger, and sent it hurtling toward Krum. He wasn't able to duck fast enough, and the Bludger hit him square in the face. Harry joined Blaise in crying out for a time-out, but the referee was distracted. One of the veela's fireballs had set the tail of his broom alight.
Harry didn't think Krum could play with blood pouring from a broken nose. Then he saw Lynch. The Irish Seeker shot forward, and this time Harry was sure it was not a ploy. He trained his Omnioculars on the Seeker, and saw with a thrill of excitement the flitting wings of the Golden Snitch.
"He's got it! He's got it!" Harry chanted, watching the progress of the Seeker as he speed through the air.
"Not yet he hasn't!" Millie shouted, "Look at Krum!"
Harry had nearly forgotten his favorite player in his haste to watch the Snitch. He didn't know how Krum could see in his condition, but he seemed unaware of any pain as he trailed after Lynch, quickly closing the gap between them, flecks of blood flying behind him as he went.
Lynch seemed to sense that Krum was on his tail, and it made him reckless as he went into a dive, desperately following the path of the Snitch.
"They're going to crash again!" Millie said.
"No, but I think Lynch is!" Blaise cried.
He was right. For the second time, the Irish Seeker crashed into the ground, only to be trampled by the veela who were still battling with ministry wizards and leprechauns alike.
"Where's the Snitch?" asked Sirius, literally on the edge of his seat.
"He's got it!" Harry said again, only this time with veracity, "Krum has the Snitch! It's all over!"
The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170. Krum had ended the game, but Ireland had one. All around them came the rumbling roar of the crowd, with screams of joy erupting from the Irish supporters, completely drowning out the sounds of grief from the Bulgarian side.
The Irish team took a lap of victory around the field, flanked by those leprechauns who had not been viciously attacked by veela. Harry, who had been cheering with the rest of the spectators as he watched their progress, was dazzled by a blinding white light. The Top Box was suddenly illuminated, their faces magically projected on the scoreboard for the entire audience to see. Harry found himself wishing he had tried harder to comb his hair, but the crowd was of course not looking at him. They were presenting the World Cup to the winners.
Harry saw Minister Fudge accept the large golden chalice as Bagman called for a round of applause for the losing team. The seven Bulargian players marched dutifully into the box, and Harry got to see his idol up close.
Krum was a real mess. The front of his robes were covered in blood, already turning a brownish color against the crimson cloth. His face had also been very hastily wiped from blood, revealing two black eyes that were blossoming spectacularly across this face. He seemed to be uncomfortable on the ground, lacking all the agility and grace he embodied in the air. The duck-footed appearance of his figurine turned out to be fairly accurate.
Harry didn't blame Krum for Bulgaria's loss. The Irish Chasers were too good, and if he had waited, the gap in the score would only have grown. Harry thought he understood Krum. If it had been him, he would want to end the match on his own terms and not lose the one-on-one competition with Lynch. Harry was deeply impressed by Krum. As the Irish team made their appearance in the Top Box to accept the Cup, Harry wondered if he could try any of the moves he'd seen Krum use at Hogwarts that year.
He remembered with a pang of regret that he'd given his Firebolt to Draco. Unintentionally, his gaze wandered toward the Malfoy family, and he was surprised to see that Draco was looking at him as well. As if he knew what Harry had been thinking, he smirked, and Harry quickly turned away in disgust.
Then it was all over. The trophy was presented, the teams had left the box, and all around them spectators began to pour out of the stands. Harry noticed the Weasley twins jumping over the seats to get to Bagman as they waited to file out of the box. Their hands were outstretched toward the minister. They seemed to be hitting him up for money. Bagman looked embarrassed and muttered to Mrs. Zabini to continue on without him.
Harry heard Sirius muttering to Remus on their way down, "They must have placed a bet on Ireland to win."