Chapter Six: Potter Stinks

The week after Halloween was very different than the rest of the year had been up to that point. For one thing, Harry Potter was extremely unpopular with everybody but his own housemates. (The Slytherins found it a rather nice change.) On the other hand, Cedric Diggory was having an excellent time of it -- whole flocks of girls suddenly started waiting outside of his classrooms to see him emerge, which drove the rest of the sixth-years crazy. It was strange to come down to breakfast and hear another language being spoken at the other end of the table. One of the Durmstrang girls (her classmates confided) had spent her entire life refusing to learn English; she barely knew ten words of it. Bruce, intrigued, asked her about it, and came back grinning.

"Her brother's on the Vratsa Vultures with Krum," he reported, "and the first year he made the team they were utterly whipped by the Appleby Arrows. Just demolished. So she's waging a silent war against England -- calls it a 'heathen language' and you don't want to know what else. Actually it was quite funny."

Melissa gave him a very funny look. "So, wait -- if she only speaks Russian, then you --"

"I speak Russian. Yeah." Bruce looked surprised. "I thought you knew that. Actually she speaks Bulgarian at home, and Russian at school ... so does Krum, incidentally ... they're sort of similar languages ..."

"Hang on," Beth interrupted, remembering something from third year, "how many languages exactly do you know?"

Bruce squirmed. "A couple." He grinned bashfully. "I mean, if you're that curious, go look it up. It's in the Ledger."

Later that evening, they did. It was over twenty.

Richard, not one to miss out on the fun of getting to know the foreigners, alternated between the Slytherin table and the prefects' table. Friday he sat with the Durmstrangers, reminiscing with Gypsy and comparing their scholastic experiences over the past three years. Eventually the talk got around to mutual acquaintances. Richard paused, then spat out the question he had been dying to ask.

"Gypsy ..." He hesitated again. "What do you know about Riggs?"

Gypsy looked away. "Nothing. He graduated last year ... I haven't heard of him since. He never really got to know his classmates -- he only had a year, and you know he's a bit backward socially --"

"And morally," said Richard bitterly. "The Ledger says that he's in Suffolk. I haven't the faintest idea what he's doing there. He never returns my letters."

Gypsy laid a hand on Richard's arm. "At least you're still trying," she said softly.

Beth got up and moved down the table to sit with Melissa.

"Honestly," she said, settling herself down, "it would be nice if she would just quit pawing him."

Melissa leaned down the table to see to what degree Richard was actually getting pawed.

Before she could comment, Blaise Zabini came and plunked down between them. She had a cardboard box in one hand, which she thrust at Beth.

"Here. Take one and pass them down." She looked terribly excited.

Beth looked down at the box in her hands. It was stuffed full of badges that read, in glowing green letters:

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY--
THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

She glanced back up at Blaise. "Where'd you get these?"

"Mail-order," she said proudly. "There's a place in London that'll do them -- Draco and I ordered them Monday, it just took this long to get here. I think that's enough for the school, don't you? And look what else they do --" She reached into the box and pressed her finger to one of the badges. Immediately, the green words vanished and were replaced with bold red lettering:

POTTER STINKS

Beth gaped and then started to laugh. "I love them!"

Blaise beamed. "Knew you would. Go on, pass them down, we want to make sure everyone has one by lunchtime. We've got Potions right after. It'll be a good time to show them off to the Gryffindors, you know?"

"I wish I could be there," said Beth jealously, fixing a badge to the front of her cloak.

"The best part," said Blaise, with a wicked grin, "is that Granger gave us the idea." She grabbed a handful of badges and hustled away to distribute them to a few first-years who hadn't been around very long, but had already figured out that they were supposed to think of Potter as the enemy.

Bruce took two. "One to wear," he said, cheerfully flashing POTTER STINKS down the table at Aaron, "and one to hang by my bed, just so I can look at it all the time." He sighed wistfully. "If only we had a Quidditch game this year. We could all wear them, and blink them to distract him." Beth patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

Blaise and her classmates must have done their work well -- the badges got more and more popular as the day went on, and by the time Beth made her way down to dinner, nearly everybody had one. The fourth years were absolutely delighted that their plan had worked. Furthermore, it had directly led to the loss of fifty points from Gryffindor -- all told, it was no wonder that Malfoy wore the satisfied expression of a cat with feathers in its teeth.

She set her books down on the tabletop, but before she could sit down, there was a tugging at her sleeve and an extremely loud, arrogant voice sounded:

"Hey! Hey you!"

She looked around for the source of the noise. Finally she looked down. About a foot and a half below her was a dark, curly head, sporting a snub nose and some mean-looking freckles. Beth recognized him as the kid who the Weasleys had hissed at during the Sorting ceremony, the one whom they had Obliviated after the first S.S.A. meeting. "Some girl wants you to go to the Entrance Hall," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

Beth looked down at him in surprise. "What? Who?"

The boy shrugged. "Don't know, don't care," he chanted, and strutted off to join his friends in what was sure to be an intellectual, worthwhile dinner.

Beth scowled after him, thinking how the firsties got ruder every year, and started toward the Entrance Hall. She was arrested by a strong hand around her wrist.

"Vill you not join us for dinner, Beth?"

It was Josef Poliakoff, the boy that had recognized her at the feast-before-the-Halloween-feast. His blonde hair was still tousled. He grinned widely while keeping a firm grip on her arm.

"I ... I'm supposed to meet someone right now," Beth said politely, wondering whether protocol allowed her to pry his fingers from her wrist. "Excuse me."

She started off and was dragged back to the table by Josef, who hadn't released her.

"You vill be back, yes?" The Durmstrang boy grinned around at his classmates. "Ve vould be most honored and humbled by your company."

"Yes, of course," said Beth, blushing faintly.

Josef let her go -- but before she could leave, he sat back in his chair and pushed his plate away from him. "I vill not eat a bite until you return," he declared, crossing his arms and affecting a pout. His classmates laughed.

"Uh ... okay," said Beth. She cast a helpless look at Gypst Arendt, who smiled and rolled her eyes. "I'm, uh, going now."

"If you must," said Josef stuffily, nose in the air, arms still crossed.

"Um," said Beth. "Well ... bye." She turned and made her escape to the Entrance Hall as quickly as she dared.

The Entrance Hall was empty except for two people who stood near the door. One of them greeted Beth.

"Good day, Miss Parson."

The cool, dusty voice was just as familiar as the silver-haired old man who used it.

"Mr. Ollivander, hi!" The wand-maker had his hands folded placidly in the sleeves of his robes. Melissa stood beside her uncle, smiling up at him fondly. "What are you doing here?"

"He's been invited to weigh the contestants' wands," Melissa broke in. "For the Tournament, you know." She beamed. "He's got special permission from Dumbledore to take us out to dinner in Hogsmeade."

"Though I suggest," said Mr. Ollivander dryly, "that you remove those badges of yours first."

"Oh." Beth laughed self-consciously and unhooked her Potter Stinks badge. "The other half says 'Support Cedric Diggory.' I think the fourth-years just got carried away."

"Indeed."

One of the horseless carriages was waiting for them; apparently, the wandmaker had some influence in the school. Mr. Ollivander took them not to the Three Broomsticks, as Beth had expected, but a small cafe on the second story of a tiny bed-and-breakfast called the Grinning Goose. The room was cozy and warmly lit with great glowing globes over every table. They ordered dinner and were served in no time by a cheery waitress who looked as if she would, if asked, gladly adopt them and be a mother to them all. They talked about school and news from outside Hogwarts. Melissa and her uncle shared a laugh over the fact that the Beauxbatons girl had a wand made from the hair of a veela, although Beth did not entirely get the joke.

"And Miss Parson," said Mr. Ollivander, turning to her, "how has your school year been?"

"Fine so far. I've been spending a lot of time in the dungeons."

The old wandmaker's pale eyes twinkled. "As a prisoner of Professor Snape or of Mr. Filch?"

Beth laughed. "Snape -- I have a major Alchemy project this year," she explained. "It's going to be really in-depth ... I mean, it's going to take a lot of time."

Mr. Ollivander nodded. "All worthwhile studies will. And the subject of this project?"

"Well," said Beth, self-consciously, "I've decided to develop a potion to let you see in the dark. I made some eyedrops a couple of years ago that only worked for about two minutes -- I'd like to do it right this time."

"Ah -- an excellent goal." Mr. Ollivander looked as if he approved thoroughly. "Best of luck to you. I must point out that should you need any assistance, there are many members of the alumni chapter of the Society who would be most willing and able."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," said Beth. "How are the alumni doing? Any news?"

Mr. Ollivander adjusted his spectacles. "In fact, there is news from the Society," he said, dropping his voice to a dry whisper. "A Muggle has disappeared in Little Hangleton -- the same town where the Society crypt stands."

Melissa waved her hand scornfully. "Muggles are always doing that, going off and getting lost."

Mr. Ollivander straightened and gave his niece a severe look. "Even a Muggle rarely disappears with no warning or trace," he said sharply. "Especially a Muggle who has kept house for, and was rumored have murdered, the only known relatives of Tom Riddle!"

The Grinning Goose fell silent. Beth felt the eyes on her and blushed crimson. Melissa's uncle cleared his throat and softly called to the waitress for another gillywater. Melissa said, "Oh," and suddenly became very interested in the food on her plate.

The old wandmaker took off his thick milky spectacles and polished them meticulously on his napkin. "We are, to say the least, concerned about such a suspicious event occurring so close to our meeting place," said Mr. Ollivander, more quietly. "Especially with such a connection to our founder. We have arranged for one of our members to search the house fully, although a quick early investigation turned up nothing. He will report to us after Christmas."

"You'll let the student chapter know then, right?" Melissa said anxiously.

Mr. Ollivander pursed his thin lips. "My dear niece ... that depends on what he finds."

***

November rolled in cool and clear. While the schedule hardly varied from year to year, little changes helped keep things fresh.

Foreign languages flew through the air in the halls or at meals. (Bruce had by now been asked to translate so often that he had started doing it automatically.) Draco had been keeping a lower profile than usual after the ferret incident, although his tongue had become sharper and his looks more venomous. When the Daily Prophet came out with a hilarious article about the champions -- in fact, mostly just about Potter the tragic hero -- Draco made sure everyone got a copy, and from then on he looked a little happier. Professor Moody was doing a bang-up job of terrifying his students. More than once, Richard had been called upon to comfort a younger student who had the bad luck to startle the Defense teacher. The first-years, on the other hand, were a malicious little bunch, and they actually seemed to get a kick out of dodging a hex from Moody's quick trigger-finger.

Josef Poliakoff gave Beth a great deal of grief for not returning to dinner. He had not eaten a morsel, he avowed, and his classmates admitted that was true, until he got back to the ship and devoured Andrei's private snack stash.

Career Counseling became the low point of the sixth-years' week. Madame Pince never varied her curriculum and she never expressed anything but the most detached disdain for the class in general. While the students in Apparator's Ed were studying geography and hearing grisly splinching stories (they claimed), the C.C. students slogged through quizzes and examined possible career paths. Beth began to wish that the Sorting Hat could set you up with a job as well as a Hogwarts house.

Bruce was wearing his badge set permanently on POTTER STINKS, and never wasted an opportunity to harass him in the hallways. "Come on," he reasoned, after managing to quote a good length of the Prophet article to the back of Potter's head on the way to D.A.D.A one Friday. "For once, we're in the majority around here. We have to take advantage of it."

"But must you offer him a hanky every time we pass him?" said Melissa.

Bruce shrugged disarmingly. "You never know when he's going to bust into tears over his parents --" He noticed that Professor Moody was giving him a bit of a glare and broke off.

Melissa caught Moody's look as well. "Be careful what you say, Brucey," she warned. "Someone'll think you've got it in for Potter."

"I have got it in for Potter," said Bruce, but just then Moody, at the front of the room, said very loudly, "Dumbledore tells me you'll all be let out to Hogsmeade village this Saturday."

The class quieted into whispers.

"Fine place, Hogsmeade," Moody continued. He put his hands behind his back and began to limp slowly from one side of the room to the other. "Open. Bustling. Exposed." He slammed his fist onto Mervin's desk and everybody jumped. "Lots of little shops, lots of little alleyways -- and your enemies could be anywhere."

"That's right," whispered Aaron Pucey. "The Weasleys'll be stocked up with Dungbombs again."

Warrington sniggered loudly. Professor Moody fixed both mismatched eyes on him.

"Think this is funny, Warrington?" he said in a soft, dangerous growl. The smile faded from Warrington's face. "Think this is a joke?"

"Uh ..." said Warrington uncertainly. Antigone snorted.

Professor Moody straightened to face the class. "Anywhere there's alleys and doorways ... anywhere there's people ... anywhere you're out of control ... that's where you're in danger!" He slammed down his fist again. "There's only one way to be safe in the village of Hogsmeade. Constant vigilance!"

***

"What a useful lesson today," Melissa deadpanned, back in the common room after dinner. "How to avoid being blasted by your enemies in Hogsmeade. I know I've always worried about that sort of thing."

"I have," said Mervin. "Aaron wasn't kidding about the Weasleys."

Beth settled into a corner of the sofa with Marvelous Orb: The Mechanics of the Eye. "I don't really feel like going to Hogsmeade this year," she said, stifling a yawn. "I dunno, it seems a little ... boring."

Melissa sighed and nodded. "It'll be our tenth trip. Not counting the train station."

"Boring," Bruce agreed. "I'd rather be ..." He trailed off. His eyes grew wide. "I'll be right back." Without another word, he got up and charged out of the common room.

His friends watched him go.

"He gets weirder every year," said Mervin.

"You should talk," said Melissa.

Bruce was in and out of the common room all evening ... whispering with Warrington ... running back out ... coming back in and chatting up Draco. At curfew, he finally came inside for good. "It's all set," he told Beth and Melissa gleefully. "Now for the rest of it ..."

He gathered Aaron and Warrington and a few others in front of the fireplace. Then, to Beth and Melissa's tremendous astonishment, he raised his hands and made an announcement to the entire common room.

"Attention please!"

One by one the clusters of chat died down. Richard, studying with some classmates, looked up in alarm.

"We are not going to Hogsmeade tomorrow." There was a burst of whispering. "Your returning Quidditch team members have challenged Durmstrang to a scrimmage match tomorrow morning after breakfast. Anybody in second year or up who wants to play should come down, and everyone's invited to watch."

Scattered whispers and excited chatter started to fill the air. Bruce raised his hands again.

"We have only one rule."

An expectant pause.

"Don't tell the Gryffindors!"

The laughter and cheering were evidence that he needn't have said anything.

***

The next morning, when most of the school excitedly filed out of the Great Hall to board the coaches bound for Hogsmeade, the Slytherin and Durmstrang students stayed seated. Eventually, Bruce and Josef showed up with broad grins on their faces and a ring of keys in hand. "We've got permission from Hooch," Bruce announced. "Head on down to the pitch -- we'll be along in a moment."

He surveyed the students swarming out to the Quidditch pitch. He turned to Josef with a slight frown. "We're missing someone."

Josef looked around anxiously. "Of course! He hasn't heard --t'e star of our team --"

"The library," they said together.

They found Viktor Krum in the usual spot: three tables from the corner along the left side of the library. His flat don't-bother-me scowl was firmly in place, and he was by now so used to ignoring his fan club that he didn't notice his classmates until Josef bewitched his notebook to bounce up and down under his quill. He performed the countercurse while Josef (completely oblivious to the heavy-browed glare) quickly described the plan.

"And ve need you, Viktor Krum. Ve'll never win wit'out you."

Viktor reddened and looked down at his still-wobbly notes. "No, I vouldn't --" he began gruffly, but Josef grabbed him by the back of his robes and hauled him out of the chair.

"Who said ve vanted you to play?" he demanded good-naturedly. "Ve need a referee!"

A shy smile worked its way across Viktor's face and he pulled away from Josef's grip. "Vhat makes you think I von't cheat against you, Poliakoff?"

"Vhe'll be cheating too, so it vill even out," Josef said immediately.

"Please, Viktor, you need to get out of this stuffy castle," Gypsy said, tugging on his arm. "You haven't been flying in the daytime for two months."

Viktor cast an uncertain glance toward his textbooks lying open on the table, but Josef was already shoving them into his knapsack. He thrust it into Viktor's arms. "There. Now you're ready."

"Khuru'sha, all right," Viktor said resignedly. He looked over his shoulder at a collection of girls huddled in one of the aisles and lowered his voice. "Just don't tell the dievushky vhere I am!"

***

The sun was still warm for late November, but there was a bite in the air that warned of the winter to come. Slytherin and Durmstrang students alike knelt on the grass or sprawled out on the bleachers, vast and empty without the usual crowds of people. The knock-together game felt comfortably informal; no one wore their school robes, although the Slytherins had settled on makeshift uniforms by raiding their locker room for old green jerseys.

Bruce had assembled what was left of the team, and passed around the Nimbus 2001's although he himself held his old Comet comfortably under one arm. "Bole and Derrick, you're starting Beaters," he barked, tossing them each a club. Bole and Derrick joyfully butted heads and took off. "Draco, you're Seeker for now. Warrington -- Chaser -- Little Puce -- Chaser --" He looked around thoughtfully, then pointed at Herne Rudisille. "You take Chaser for now." Gratefully, Herne grabbed a broom and swooped into the air.

Nearby, Josef was taking no such time to gather his team. "Katya, ty budeshy n'vratet' Keeper," he said, checking the Sickle that he had just flipped into his palm. "Gypsy, you're ..." He flipped the coin again. "... Beater. Maria-Regina ... you be t'e Seeker."

"Trade you," said Gypsy wryly, handing off her club to Maria-Regina, who gratefully accepted.

The other Beater was a boy Beth didn't recognize; Josef, Andrei and an unknown girl were chosen to be Chasers. The fourteen of them took their places on the pitch while Viktor Krum, astride his now internationally-famous broomstick, collected the Slytherin practice balls.

"Vone -- two --" He gave a piercing whistle with his thumb and forefinger, and kicked open the ball crate before zooming into the air. All four balls went barreling onto the pitch; Beth lost sight of the Snitch immediately, but Warrington caught the Quaffle and one of the Bludgers rammed Josef in the middle of the forehead before speeding off to menace Aaron Pucey.

Josef shook his head dizzily and turned to chase after the Quaffle, a strawberry blotch still on his forehead.

Warrington and Aaron had been practicing together over the summer, and it showed; they passed the Quaffle between each other as if they were two halves of the same person. The Beaters, Bole and Derrick, covered them viciously -- the whole crowd gasped when one of their Bludgers came within half an inch of slamming into the back of Andrei's head. Just as Aaron swooped into scoring range and raised his arm to shoot, Josef came up from nowhere and plucked the Quaffle right out of his hand.

"Hey!"

"T'anks," Josef called over his shoulder.

Beth looked at Krum, but apparently it wasn't a foul; Josef and his teammates sped towards Bruce's goal with the Slytherins in hot pursuit. Josef tossed the Quaffle over to Andrei, who dove and came up near the right-hand goal. He hurled the Quaffle -- but Bruce was there and caught the ball in both hands before tossing it back into play. The Slytherins cheered.

"Hey," said Melissa. She nudged Beth, eyes wide. "Look at that."

She gestured to a cluster of Durmstrang students, sprawled out on the grass. They were cheering too. Beth gaped for a moment; nobody but a Slytherin had ever cheered at a Slytherin's block. Then she started to smile.

The game went on all morning. One of the Durmstrang students had her eye blackened by a Bludger; somebody conjured some ice and she was back in the game within minutes. Bruce substituted Mervin for Herne and swapped him back out again after the redhead forgot which side of the field was his.

Josef cheated so blatantly that it was impossible to get mad over it. He grabbed Andrei's club and started smacking the Quaffle with it like a baseball bat. ("It's t'e American rules!" he insisted, with a wink at Beth, when Krum declared it a foul.)

Krum, although he was not playing, looked like he was having the time of his life as referee. The eyes that could spot a Snitch faster than anyone in the world became mysteriously blind to cobbing. Twice he gave penalties to Slytherin because "Josef vos looking at me funny" and he really seemed to enjoy butting in on both teams' discussions whenever they called a time-out, dispensing mostly useless advice.

The Snitch was still on the loose by lunchtime, so Bruce and Josef called an extended time-out. They tried to send some first-years in for food, but they wouldn't do it, so a handful of second-years cheerfully volunteered and came back laden with baskets of fruit, sandwiches and flasks of pumpkin juice. After lunch nobody wanted to do anything except sit around and chat. Bruce and Josef had quite a time coming around and persuading each one of their teammates that he didn't need an afternoon nap; but eventually enough people succumbed that Krum got back in the air and blew the whistle for the game to continue.

Game play was slow for a while; there was a lot more joshing around than scoring. Krum gave a penalty to Durmstrang because Bole and Derrick were hitting each other with their bats instead of the Bludgers. Suddenly Gypsy, who had been hovering several feet below game play, turned and shot upward. Everyone turned to watch her and Draco, half the pitch away, whipped his broom towards her and bolted across the field in the direction that she was headed, scanning the sky desperately.

Gypsy took one hand off her broom and reached out -- she obviously had her eye on something --

Wham! A Bludger slammed into the end of her broomstick and sent her spinning. She clutched at her broomstick with both hands and went crashing into Draco, who had just caught up with her. The two got tangled with each other and began to fall for one terrifying second before they extracted themselves and pulled apart, safely above the ground. Bruce and Josef started in towards them, to see if they were all right, but both of them were anxiously looking around the sky -- then one by one they went back to circling the field. The Snitch had been lost.

The audience once more focused on the scoring game. One of the Durmstrang Chasers had picked up the Quaffle and was flying determinedly toward the goal posts. Bruce barely moved to meet her. She swung to the left and made the shot ...

The Quaffle whizzed past Bruce's head and through the center scoring hoop.

The Durmstrang girl gave a triumphant whoop. Bruce blinked and looked around, an expression of astonishment on his face. "Did I just --"

His teammates started to laugh.

"Hey Bletchley, what're you doing up there?" Aaron jeered. "Watching the birds go by?"

"I got distracted by your ugly mug," Bruce called back, swooping into position.

Derrick flew past. "Maybe I should start sending the Bludgers to you, keep you awake." He and Bole haw-hawed over that one and butted heads again.

"I t'ink k'he is doink just fine," said the girl who had just scored, winking smugly at Bruce.

The Quaffle went to Slytherin and Aaron took off, weaving through Durmstrangers with the Quaffle clutched tight to his chest. "Pass it!" roared Warrington. Aaron held out the Quaffle -- and instead of throwing it to Warrington, he dropped it to where Herne was hovering below. Instantly, Herne took off to the Durmstrang goals, ducked Katya's outstretched arm, and sank a goal.

Beth and Melissa cheered wildly. Herne went pink to the roots of his curly hair and bashfully retreated to starting position, beaming. His teammates clapped him on the back and took their positions as well. The Quaffle went back into play --

The sound of a whistle shrieked out over the field.

Both teams ground to a halt and all eyes fell on Krum. "Foul," he roared.

"I vosn't looking at you!" cried Josef, as Bruce was yelling, "Foul? What foul?"

"Snitchnip."

Krum held up one arm. Clutched between his thumb and forefinger was the Golden Snitch.

Everybody started to laugh and Krum grinned bashfully. "It vos too close," he shrugged. He reared back his arm and hurled the Snitch back into play. Then he blew his whistle again and the game resumed.

With the referee's capture of the Snitch, the game took on a more excited feel -- now that it had been sighted, surely the end was near. Attention shifted from the Chasers (still battling it out one goal at a time) to the Seekers, circling slowly around the pitch, sometimes feinting one way or the other to give a bit of a shock to the other one.

Nobody scored much for a little while. Despite the fact that Bruce was defending his goals more closely than usual, every time somebody flew near him he had to endure taunting over his lapse of attention earlier in the game. Bole and Derrick turned over their positions to Crabbe and Goyle, who had been looking a little lost with their leader in the air above them.

Draco, on one end of the pitch, sank into a casual dive. Almost at the same time, Gypsy, on the opposite end of the pitch, let out a cry and shot toward the center line. Draco caught sight of her and shifted into the fastest speed his Nimbus 2001 was capable of. Above them, Andrei had the Quaffle and was trying to feint past Bruce; but now all eyes were on the two Seekers, heading on a collision course to the center of the pitch.

"Get out of the way!" screamed Gypsy, straining her arm forward.

"You first!" cried Draco, hand outstretched.

The spectators were on their feet, cheering and screaming. The Seekers came together like a pair of locomotives. At the very last second, Draco swooped out with his arm and skyrocketed up; Gypsy made a grab at the air and dove away, missing the tail of Draco's broomstick by a hair's breadth.

Krum flew out towards them excitedly. "Vhich of you has it?" he cried.

Draco held up his fist. "It's mine!"

Krum blew the whistle and the audience burst into applause. The teams began to sink to the ground, shaking hands or slapping shoulders. Josef hit the ground and stood up shakily -- he had been on broomstick practically all day.

"Viktor!" Josef called. "Vhat's t'e score?"

Viktor Krum landed beside him. "I forget."

"Durmstrang vins!" Josef crowed, thrusting his fists into the air.

Draco looked like he was going to say something; but he closed his mouth when he saw that none of his teammates looked like they were going to argue the point.

Cheerful and tired, the two groups of students collected their things and trudged inside, silhouetted by the wide rays of a setting sun. At dinner, the Durmstrang students intermingled like they had been at Hogwarts forever, and those who didn't know much about Quidditch found themselves at a loss in the dinner conversation. Beth didn't catch up with Bruce until after dinner, when the two groups finally split between the dungeons and the lake.

"That was a great idea," she told him. "Quidditch hasn't been so much fun since we slaughtered the Gryffindors in second year."

"And I wasn't playing then," Bruce pointed out.

Beth couldn't resist a jibe. "It didn't look like you were playing today either," she said, nudging him in the ribs. "Way to pay attention up there."

Bruce blushed ever so slightly. He took her elbow and pulled her over to the side of the hall. "I saw something up there," he whispered. "Something's going on across the lake. I'm going up to the Astronomy tower tonight to try and get a better look."

"Oh -- wow!" said Beth. "Let me come along! I'm better at using a telescope anyway," she added. "Just let me go tell Melissa."

***

Melissa raised her eyebrows. "The Astronomy tower?"

"Sure, why?"

"Well, no one goes there just to look at the stars, if you know what I mean --"

"Mel!"

"What?" Melissa shrugged her shoulders. "Everybody knows it."

"Well, then, if we get caught, that'll be our excuse," said Beth shortly. "Anyway, we're not going to look at the stars, we're going to look at the -- hey, Aaron," she said hastily. Aaron waved and walked on past. Beth let out her breath and shook her head. "You know, sometimes I forget that our whole class isn't in the -- hi, Warrington."

Warrington grunted (some days it was too much to hope that he could articulate a greeting) and followed Aaron over to a half-played game of Gobstones.

"You were saying?" said Melissa, with a grin.

Beth made very sure that they were being ignored before answering. "I was just warning you where I'd be tonight, that's all. In case you wondered."

"That's nice of you," said Melissa, "but I would have just figured you were out with Rich." She got up to leave, then turned back around and winked. "In the Astronomy tower."

She left Beth stammering and waltzed out of the common room.

~~~~~~~~~~
I wish I had a Potter Stinks badge. I would wear it to bookstores, and to go see the movies, and things. Plus, I could use it as a nightlight. I would also send one to my Gryffindor friend Amy, just for laughs.
Khuru'sha = okay
dievushky = girls
"Katya, ty budeshky n'vratet' Keeper." = roughly, "Katya, you become the Keeper." The Russian word for Keeper is "wratar'", but I figured that wasn't necessary.