AN: I do not own Harry Potter, that honor goes to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter 9 - The Quidditch World Cup
Harry stirred the tea in his cup while he listened to Sirius recount his visit to the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley was not happy with Harry and his decision to leave her home in the middle of the night. She'd started to blame Sirius for exposing Harry to dangerous ideas before Ginny stood up to her mother.
"That is a firey one," Sirius comment with a small smile. "She stood toe-to-toe with her mother and yelled back and forth for a good five minutes before Arthur plucked up enough courage to get between them. He's a brave wizard. I could feel the ambient energy the two of them were putting out from ten feet away."
Harry snorted and shook his head. He blew the steam off the top of his tea before adding a dollop of honey from a small jar with a wave of his wand. "I knew Mrs. Weasley would be angry, but I didn't expect her to be that angry," he mused.
"She's scared. I can't say I wouldn't be worried too, if I were in her position. She loves you like a son, and this means danger is coming. I spoke with Dumbledore. He's going to come round to question you and add a few enchantments of his own to... this place. We... we need to talk about that first. He suggested a Fidulius Charm."
Harry grunted but nodded. "So, I'm to go into hiding," he mused and gripped his cup tighter. "I could be wrong, you know." Even as he said the words, he knew his dream was somehow real.
"Just for a few days, until you go to Hogwarts. There, you will be protected far better than I could ever provide for you. The school itself is a bastion of magical protections and defensive layers that an army of wizards would have trouble taking down."
"What about after that?"
Sirius pursed his lips and breathed out a long sigh. "I'll find a solution before next summer, even if I have to track Peter down myself. I've already spoken to Dumbledore about that. I'll be in Hogsmede during your entire school year in case something happens," he announced with a boyish grin.
"You just want to get back onto the grounds. You know, you might be a decent Professor if the Ministry would ever let you teach students."
Sirius barked a laugh and smirked. "My dark reputation would have half the country in arms against the Ministry if they let me near their children. I wouldn't teach them Dark Arts, but I would teach them the art of mischief," he joked.
"We going to talk about what happened last night?"
"No, not yet," Sirius muttered and looked away. "I want to see if there is anything still there. She... is a powerful witch with a strong personality."
"Your opposite then," Harry mused with a smirk.
Sirius chuckled and smiled. "Maybe," he admitted with a wider smile. "Now, are you still up for going to the World Cup? I'll understand if you decide to skip out. I'll be beside you the entire time."
"I still want to go. Whatever is going to happen will be after the game, and I'd like to see professionals play Quidditch."
"Then we'll go by Portkey with the Weasleys. Arthur will meet us at Stoatshead Hill, wherever that is, tomorrow. I spoke with Dumbledore and Arthur, and they both agree it might be safer for you to not return to the Burrow. Dobby is bringing your things over in a bit. Hedwig has already left her cage, probably to fly here."
"Thank you, for everything," Harry muttered and sipped his tea.
"We knew when Pettigrew escaped that things would become troublesome. It's just starting a little earlier than Remus and I expected."
"You had this planned?" Harry asked, looking into his godfather's eyes.
The answer lept, unbidden, into Harry's mind as he seemed to peer past Sirius' gray eyes as his godfather spoke. "We were going to pull you out of the Burrow sooner, but decided for your sake that one more summer with your friends would be a good thing," Sirius admitted with a grimace. "Dumbledore agreed, then, that the threat to your immediate safety wasn't high enough for a drastic reaction."
"And now?"
Sirius paused and took a deep breath. "If Voldemort gains a foothold in Britain again, even in this deformed shape you saw him in, then things could go badly for all of us," he admitted with a pained expression. "We didn't know who to trust. Friends turned on friends. Your warning... if that is what it will turn out to be, has Dumbledore worried. It has me worried."
"What are we planning on doing?" Harry asked as he put his mug down. He heard the tremble in his voice and hated himself for it.
"You? Until you're of age, you focus on schoolwork and learning to protect yourself. You can't go galavanting off around the country trying to find Voldemort without the Ministry coming down on your head. Maybe even for a while after you're of age. Dumbledore, Remus, and I are adults and have fought this kind of shadow war before; if it even becomes another war. I may disagree with Dumbledore, but he's the best chance we have and had to fight. Then again. Pettigrew might drop the evil git and break his Master's scrawny neck. It would save everyone a lot of trouble. "
Harry snorted and shook his head. "I can't help at all?" he asked, trying to hide his frown.
Sirius paused and drummed his fingers on the table. "I won't say you can't help, that would be foolish. You're becoming a strong and dedicated wizard but, tell me this, what happens if you get yourself killed? War is war. You know this better than most your age. If you have an idea, bring it to me. I won't ignore you because of your age. I trust you to use your head before you act," he finished with a smile.
"I don't know how I can help," Harry admitted with a sigh. "Maybe mass-produce Wigenweld Potions for you."
"That may be a good idea, but Harry, nothing has happened. You're jumping ahead of yourself."
"If one desires peace, one must prepare for war," Harry quoted with a smirk. "The more sweat you put in now will save you blood in the future."
"I don't think those quotes are quite right, but I understand what you mean. After the World Cup, we'll sit down and brainstorm some ideas before you head to school. You need a mental and physical break, and I need to clear out a few of the rooms if we want to sleep comfortably. I think there is still a ghoul on the third floor."
Harry tried to distract himself by talking to Sirius about the various enchantments imbued on the Black Ancestral Home. His godfather answered some of his questions but refused to delve too deeply into the darker enchantments that made up the numerous defensive spells around the windows and gargoyles on the roof.
"Just know, they will attack anyone they deem a threat. Gargoyles are deceptively dangerous. If you ever run into one, remember that they are enchanted, not living creatures. If you can find the runic chain containing the spell, then you can destroy the Gargoyle. I know we haven't gone over the deeper enchantments, but runes, especially Ancient Runes carved with special tools, have powerful connections with magic. Most broomsticks are enchanted with Ancient Runes and enchantments and spells laid over the foundation. If I remember my wand-lore, similar runic enchantments are used to contain and allow the wood and core to work together to make a wand."
Harry frowned and nodded. "Professor Lupin showed me a few examples, but everything went over my head. The twins seemed to pick up on it though," he muttered.
"A remarkable pair, those two," Sirius commented as he rose from his chair. "I admire their dedication to their dream and their propensity for causing mayhem. They will do well for themselves once they graduate."
"We're mulling over the idea of opening a shop in Hogwarts this year, to see how their products sell."
"A smart idea, it will allow them to see what their peers want and what will sell the most. Your flash...card is a truly ingenious design if you decide to sell them. It would have helped people like Pettigrew who struggled in almost every area," Sirius muttered and paused by the sink. "Remus spoke with me about your idea of using memories to create complex questions. You're delving into a deep understanding of mind-based Charms spells, like Obliviate, to achieve that. You got the idea from the diary in your second year?"
"Yeah, I know it was evil and I don't want to create something like that, but the possible applications of a book or parchment that could respond to a question or create a question from the incorrect previous answers to help someone, myself really, learn faster from their mistakes then it could be invaluable. Master Ogata and Professor Lupin teach the same way. They know when you don't understand something and ask questions or reinforce a concept before moving on."
"If you manage to figure that out, you'd make a ton of Galleons and be hailed across the world for revolutionizing magical learning," Sirius mused with a smile. "How are your studies going for curing curses?"
Harry didn't bother hiding his grimace. "Professor Lupin seems... upset when I ask too many questions about the Dark Arts. I don't want to learn them to hurt someone, but how else am I going to learn how the spells work in detail so you can heal or block them?" he questioned with a sigh.
Sirius didn't answer as he took his seat again and stared at his godson. "He, and to some extent, I am worried about your growth. I know you've noticed a spike in the quality of your spells. You commented on it last week, but we've seen it too over the summer. This isn't a bad thing, quite the contrary really. However, you are still impressionable, if strong-willed. The Dark Arts is like a whisper in your ear. The imp on your shoulder that sounds like perfectly sane logic. You must never listen to that voice. Once it takes hold, it becomes harder and harder to ignore. There is something else, something we haven't spoken about. Your desire for more power," he stated in a heavy tone.
"My desire? I just want to be able to protect myself and in this case, learn how to heal my burn scars." Harry knew he sounded petulant, but he didn't care, it was the truth.
"I agree and disagree with your assessment. Take, for example, Ron as a comparison. Yes, his outlook has changed over the summer, but even then, he learns just what he has to. He cares little more for things outside of whatever he needs to know for Quidditch. Many of your classmates, and mine when I was in school, are similar. They think Hogwarts is there to learn cool spells and that's it. Percy Weasley is a little different. Why?"
Harry pursed his lips and thought about the tall, angry Weasley. "He wants to become Minister for Magic. Percy has dedicated himself to it," he answered after a moment.
"Power," Sirius commented in a light but firm voice. "Harry, you chase after magic like it is a beautiful witch. Well... in your case that might not be the perfect example, but still. You are constantly pushing yourself to learn more, get better, become stronger. Do you know why?"
Harry bit his lip and looked away. "Hermione does it too," he muttered.
"Hermione is a rare individual who, in my opinion, chases power and knowledge because she is competitive and has an inferiority complex. One, she is a Muggle-born in a society that looks down on people like her. Two, her parents are intelligent, well-respected individuals within their community. Finally, she wants to be the best, to prove to herself and others that she can do anything better than anyone else. It could be that she was told at an early age that she was a witch and would never be as good as a wizard, or it could be just in her personality, but she competes with you to learn more."
"I don't agree with everything you've said about Hermione," Harry muttered before he sighed. "But, I can't say you're wrong. She does want to be the best. Is chasing power and knowledge really that bad? The instructors at Providence always said it was better to be over-prepared than scrambling for your life."
"No, but I bring it up because the Dark Arts will give you power, a lot of it too. The very nature of the Dark Arts is violent, volatile, and powerful. Even the simplest spells could be said to outclass powerful Shield Charms unless you know what you're doing. We will teach you, in a controlled setting, some Dark Arts so you can learn how to protect yourself, but only under the strictest supervision. You are young, Harry. Mature for your age, yes, but young. I hesitate to even do this much until you are almost of age, but... I know this is important to you."
"Thank you," Harry muttered and tried to smile. "I just want to look normal again."
"You look rugged and older than you are, Harry. I don't like blokes that way, but even I can tell you'll be as handsome as your father."
"I don't want to look like Moody," Harry complained.
Sirius barked a laugh. "You'd have to willingly jump into a Muggle blender to look like Moody on his best day. Yes, you can tell you have burn scaring, however, it doesn't make you look ugly. Trust me, your godfather who cares about your physical and mental health, that you look handsome," he finished with a smile.
"Thank you."
"No problem, I'm being honest. Now, Remus should be here in a few. I have two errands to run and figure out where Stoatshead Mill... Hill is. He'll be bringing some books on Charms that you two were working on last week. Do you need anything before I head out?"
"No, and Sirius, thank you again. For someone to talk to if nothing else."
"Harry, I'm here for anything you need... within reason. I want you to succeed and become the most powerful wizard in the world, if that's what you want. If you want to be a humble hermit in the mythical Sherwood Forest, then we can do that too."
Harry smiled at his godfather and nodded. A moment passed where they looked at each other before Sirius smiled back and moved toward the fire. The house was silent after Sirius left. Harry sat at the kitchen table, staring at the intricate golden inlay in the smooth mahogany tabletop as he pondered over Sirius' words. Why did he want power?
Harry rose in the wee hours of the morning excited to see a professional Quidditch match. He stretched and froze when he heard something crashing to the floor overhead. The portrait of Sirius' mother wailed her protests from the hallway, which set off a cacophony of other loud noises through the house.
"Bloody hell!" Sirius bellowed as he jumped off the couch opposite Harry. "She was a nuisance alive and is even worse dead," he complained and rooted around in his pajamas for his wand. "I'll go deal with her and whatever caused the racket in the first place. Remus said he might have missed a ghoul or two."
Harry snorted and pulled the blanket off his legs. He rose and concentrated hard on the kitchen pantry. In seconds, a tray with three plates of cheese appeared on the small coffee table between the two sofas. Pleased with himself, he started to nibble on the end of one of the blocks of cheese while he waited for Sirius to return.
"Blimey, that was fast," Sirius commented ten minutes later when he looked at the spread of food on the tray. "I was about to ask what you wanted to eat."
"Some tea wouldn't be a bad thing," Harry commented around a mouthful of cheese and crackers as he turned the page. "I don't know how to make that from here and conjure it to me."
"If you ever figure that spell out, your grandchildren's grandchildren would never have to work. No witch or wizard would get out of bed in the morning until they had hot tea or coffee in them."
Harry snorted and rose as he skimmed through the next paragraph. "When do we leave for Stoatshead Hill?" he asked as he negotiated around the coffee table, careful not to hit the tray of food.
"In an hour or so. Arthur will bring his group, and we'll Apparate there a little early. I think the Diggory family will be joining us."
"I can't wait!"
Harry and Sirius enjoyed their small breakfast as they talked about the various spells and charms that went into creating the Maurader's Map. Taking notes, Harry tried bouncing ideas back and forth with his godfather to see if they could somehow improve the map's design. It became evident Sirius spent a lot of time in Azkaban thinking about his previous successes and failures when he started listing over a dozen ideas he'd already come up with.
After getting dressed in Muggle clothes to blend in, Harry stood in the kitchen with Sirius. "Alright, we'll Apparate to one of the safe locations near the Burrow and walk to the prearranged spot. The cheaper tickets required us to be there already. Nearly two weeks in advance of the actual match. I think the Ministry just wants to let their certified vendors make as many Galleons as they can. Merlin knows the Ministry is always looking for ways to get more," Sirius mused with a smirk.
Harry rolled his eyes and placed his hand on his godfather's outstretched arm. "What do I need to picture in my mind?" he asked.
"Rolling hills, bad weather, and lots of green grass," Sirius joked with a wink. "You're becoming strong enough on your own now that you could probably Apparate by yourself in a few years. You have most of the basics down. Ready?"
As soon as Harry nodded, he felt like he was being sucked backward through a long tube. The pain wasn't as bad, but his cry of pain died in his throat as he felt stretched past the breaking point. As quickly as the pain started, it was gone. He stood under a tall oak tree and blinked away the dark spots in his vision. It took him a moment to realize he was outside the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole from the lazy pillars of smoke trailing up into the overcast dawn skies.
"You okay?" Sirius asked as he inspected him. "All your pieces are here, so that's a good thing. I always get a little worried. Nothing like leaving an arm or leg behind to set the mood for the rest of your day."
Harry blinked and glared up at his godfather. "Very funny," he muttered. "Which way?" he asked as he looked around.
"About a ten-minute walk from here. We'll meet the others under a knotted oak over the next hill."
Harry and Sirius joked back and forth as they strolled across the tilled earth. The darkening sky made Harry wonder if they were going to get wet before they reached the meeting place. "Hello there," a jovial voice called from somewhere to Harry's left. He looked past Sirius to see two males, one only a little shorter than the other, strolling over the hill. The shorter of the two looked familiar.
"Cedric," he called and waved. "Mr. Diggory," he greeted a moment later.
"Blimey, Black? Sirius Black? You gave us a bloody rough time last year," Mr. Diggory announced as he drew closer with his son. Mr. Diggory was tall, like his son, with ruddy cheeks and dressed like a proper Muggle in a dark coat and breeches. Cedric's father had a large pack on his back that looked almost too heavy to carry, but he ambled along without issue. "Nice to meet you officially. Amos is the name. I worked in the Magical Law Enforcement Taskforce assigned to track you down. How did you give us the slip in Diagon Alley? Your Animagus form?"
Sirius barked a laugh and shook Amos' hand. "I slid down the sewer grate after shaping the bars until you lot left. Your voice sounds familiar. You were the one that said I might have slipped into the sewers," he said with a nod.
"Brilliant," Mr. Diggory muttered and released the handshake. "You must be Harry Potter. A bloody dangerous show in the Ministry you put on, standing up to Fudge like that. I have to say I respect you for it, even if it will turn out bad for you later," he said and stuck out his hand.
Harry shook it and tried to smile. "They lied, and I wasn't going to say I cheated when I didn't. The bit with the cursed fire was a little more than I bargained for though," he commented before releasing the older wizard's hand.
Amos' face flashed a grimace before he stood straighter. "Either way, well done. Cedric tells me you're something of a genius when it comes to magic, but I think he's just being modest, my Ced. He can do things with a wand that even Dumbledore would be impressed to see from someone so young," he boasted as he clapped his son on the back. "Ah, here come the Weasleys. Arthur, over here!" he called and waved his hand high over his head.
Harry turned to see a small mob of redheads with heavy packs and two familiar faces. "Hermione? Neville?" he questioned as he squinted.
"I got tickets for everyone," Sirius commented with a smile and brushed his fingers across his jacket. "Wouldn't want the dream team to miss something so amazing as the World Cup."
"Merlin's pants, that must have set you back," Amos commented with wide eyes. "Just two tickets was a sack full of Galleons."
"It's of no importance," Sirius answered and looked toward the group approaching them. "I wouldn't want to miss the Cup for anything."
"Right you are, right you are," Amos commented with a smile. "Arthur, your family has grown again!"
"Hah, just the redheads are mine, but I see all of them as family," Mr. Weasley answered with a wide grin. "Harry, Sirius," he greeted and looked Harry over. Once he was satisfied, he turned to Cedric. "I heard you and Ron had a great match last year."
"Cedric told me! Ronald, you should be proud, but it was a close victory. Ced here is going to make sure you lose next time, right Ced?"
"Absolutely," Cedric said and shook Ron's hand. It was evident the two boys were having a small competition of strength as their forearms bulged.
Hermione tutted and turned to Harry. "Hey, you've grown," she greeted and gave him a half hug. One strap of the large brown backpack slipped off her shoulder as she tried to pat Harry's shoulder.
Harry returned the hug awkwardly and smiled. "You haven't," he joked and was rewarded with a soft punch to his stomach for his cheek.
"Thank you for introducing Mr. Tonks to me. I've learned loads over the summer," Hermione said in a low voice.
"You're welcome, what are the packs for?" Harry asked with a grin and looked at Neville. "It's good to see you... again. Even though we saw each other a few days ago," he said with a laugh.
"We all have camping gear," Hermione answered with a frown.
"I hate flying, but I can't wait to see the World Cup," Neville greeted with a wave. "Are we going to keep the club going this year? I forgot to ask, and we'll be going back to Hogwarts soon."
Harry smiled and nodded. "I plan on it, why?" he asked as Ginny drew closer.
Neville's cheeks reddened as he looked toward Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory arguing over their son's prowess at Quidditch in jovial voices. "My Gran," he said before clicking his mouth shut.
"You don't have to tell us," Hermione prompted with a small smile.
Neville took a deep breath before the words spilled out of his mouth in a rush. "My Gran said something great was happening at Hogwarts and was proud that her grandson was learning faster than her son," he gasped out, the blush in his cheeks deepening.
"Neville, you're a great wizard. I'm glad your grandmother sees that now," Harry said with a smile and clapped his friend on his back.
"I was able to have a long conversation about Switching Spells with Gran the other day. It was something other than Herbology, which Gran doesn't like all that much."
"Blimey, well done. I know she's something of a Transfiguration expert," Ron praised with a smile.
"Right, everyone, look around for a boot. That'll be our Portkey," Mr. Weasley announced as he stepped away from Amos with a smile. He hefted his heavy pack and peered around the area.
Sirius found the mangy old boot in less than a minute. He said the smell was enough to keep Muggles away, if nothing else, as he passed the boot to Mr. Weasley.
"Everyone crowd around. Make sure you touch the boot," Mr. Weasley announced and held the boot by the floppy toe.
Harry got wedged between Sirius' large frame and Ron's muscular one. "Oi, that's an elbow," he grumbled to his friend, but Ron only looked confused.
"Sorry," Ginny called as she somehow squeezed in between Ron and Harry.
Before Harry could complain the mangy old boot started to flash a bright blue. "Everyone hold on!" Mr. Weasley yelled.
The flashing continued to intensify until one last flash sent the entire group spinning into the air. Harry felt the familiar hook behind his navel as he rocketed off the ground. Ginny yelped beside him as he banged against Sirius' chest. Colors flashed and swirled past him as he watched the faces of the others around him. Mr. Weasley, calm as ever, smiled back at him. As quickly as it started, his feet slammed into the ground as the magic released him and sent him staggering backward. Ginny and Ron fell in a confused heap while Fred and George pulled their father down trying to keep balance. Sirius stood among the tangled bodies and heavy packs with an amused expression.
"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," a warm voice called from beside Harry.
"Mr. Weasley, how are you?" an inexpertly Muggle-dressed wizard in a tweed suit and thigh-high galoshes greeted as he stepped over Ron's prone form and grabbed the mangy boot off the ground.
"Morning, Mort," Arthur greeted as he got to his feet. He looked everyone over before giving the wizard his full attention.
"Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some, but we've been here all night," Mort complained as he gestured to the other wizard who stepped out from behind a massive pile of rubbish. Mort's colleague wore a kilt and a purple poncho. With a practiced flick of his wrist, Basil sent the boot arcing high into the air. It landed with a thump inside a plastic milk crate at the top of the pile.
"Weasley," the gruff wizard in a kilt greeted and drew out a long roll of parchment. "Quarter of a mile's walk in," he gestured toward the rising sun," that away. The first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory... Diggory... second field. Ask for Mr. Payne."
"Thanks, Basil," Arthur said and turned to everyone else. "Amos, see you at the match. Everyone else, with me!"
Harry walked beside Sirius and Hermione as they set off across the deserted moor. A heavy mist, strange mist hovered over the ground. He wasn't able to make out much and it took him a moment to realize the tell-tale tingle under his skin. "Muggle-Repelling?" he asked in a loud voice so Mr. Weasley could hear him. His voice sounded distant as it carried through the mist.
"Right you are," Arthur called back from farther away than Harry realized. "Surprised you picked up on it, well done."
"Oh! I went over the legal ramifications of using Muggle-Repelling Charms for public places with Ted just last week," Hermione gushed before she launched into a long-winded and detailed account of everything she knew on the subject.
It took almost twenty minutes for the group to reach the first field. Hermione sounded like she could continue her dissertation on Muggle-Repelling Charms, but Mr. Weasley hushed everyone's conversations. "Mr. Roberts is a Muggle. Be mindful everyone," he warned.
It took Harry a moment to realize there were ghostly shapes of hundreds of tents as they made their way up the path to a cottage that the mist seemed to glide around. A man, tall and narrow-faced, stood in the doorway, staring out at the group approaching and then to the field of tents just visible in the mist. At a glance, Harry knew Mr. Roberts might be the only Muggle in a sea of hundreds or more witches and wizards.
"Morning!" Mr. Weasley announced as he drew level with Mr. Roberts.
"Morning," the man answered with a curt nod. "More of them odd folk," he muttered and eyed the group. His eyes settled back on Mr. Wesaley's odd Muggle attire. "Name?"
"Weasley, three tents, booked a couple of days ago?"
"Aye," Mr. Roberts grunted and turned to the stack of pages tacked to the door with a fat nail. He flipped through them for a few minutes and pursed his lips. "You've got a space by the wood there. Just the one night?"
"That's the one!"
"You'll be paying now then, yeah?"
"Ah, yes," Arthur said, his voice faltering some. Sirius stepped past Harry and produced a stack of notes. "I think this will cover it and a little extra for the late reservations," he announced and passed the stack of notes to Mr. Roberts.
Mr. Roberts' widened and nodded, his lips moved, but no sound came out. He took the money as a genuine smile appeared on his face. "At least it isn't gold coins the size of hubcaps," he muttered. "Thank you," he said as he turned once more to Sirius. "This will help me and my family."
"Think nothing of it," Sirius commented with a brilliant smile.
Harry saw movement in the small cottage window as a young feminine face disappeared from the white curtains. "Never been this busy," Mr. Roberts commented as he put the notes away in a tin box. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up. Loads of foreigners too. More than a few weirdoes too. What self-respecting man wears a flowery dress and talks about his willie getting cold in this kind of weather." Hermione's face flushed, and Ginny suppressed a giggle. "Er, sorry," Mr. Roberts apologized with a cough. "I didn't realize we had mixed company. Well, you'll be off then?" he asked, more to Sirius than Mr. Weasley.
"We will, and thank you again," Sirius said and stepped back.
"Obliviate!" a voice cried out from somewhere in the mist. Harry acted on instinct, drawing his wand from his trouser pocket and stepped in front of Hermione. "Oh," the voice of Mr. Roberts gasped from behind Harry, a listless, dreamy cry of surprise.
A wizard in plus-fours accompanied them toward the gate to the campsite, eyeing Harry. "Been having a lot of trouble with him. I think he might be a Squib that slipped through the registers," the wizard commented to Mr. Weasley once they were out of earshot of the Muggle. "Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy, and Ludo Bagman isn't helping. Trotting around, talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice. Not a worry in the world about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur!" The wizard vanished with a loud pop a moment later.
"I thought Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports," Ginny complained as her eyebrows climbed up her forehead.
"He should know better, but Bagman has never cared much about security. A staffer in his own department goes missing, and he plays it off," Mr. Weasley remarked in a low voice. "Great head of the department though, so, I guess we all have our strengths and weaknesses."
"He was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had," Ron declared as if that absolved Mr. Bagman from any wrongdoing in his mind. Hermione snorted.
Harry, more interested in the tents they passed and the occupants sitting outside enjoying the morning air, ignored the rest of the conversation about Ludo Bagman until a name jumped out at him. "...Jorkins went missing, but he doesn't seem bothered?" Hermione gasped.
Nervous energy coursed through Harry as the name stuck out in his mind. He turned to listen and almost ran into Sirius who had a troubled expression. "Near the start of the summer, as far as we know," Mr. Weasley said with a nod. "She's always been scatterbrained though. Worse recently, just about the time she left to see her family in Albania."
Harry and Hermione locked eyes as a feeling of dread washed over Harry. The names, Jorkins, Albania, Voldemort, and Buckbeak flashed across his mind in a rush. He hoped he was wrong. Hermione gave him a penetrating stare that seemed to cut through his dark imagination as a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.
"We'll talk about it in a bit," Sirius said in a low voice. "Enjoy today. Tomorrow, then we can dig into the truth."
Harry found himself nodding, but his mind wouldn't stop running through the possibilities. Lost in his mind, he walked into Ron's pack an unknown amount of time later. He blinked and looked around. They were standing in a large clearing around several tents. Red and golden markers created a boundary around their campsite.
"Right, help me set up these tents, boys," Mr. Weasley called as he dropped his pack. It made a weighty thud as it rolled onto its side.
Much to Mr. Weasley's dismay, Sirius conjured a massive bundle and waved his wand. A green and silver tent a third of the size of the marked area erected itself by magic. "Sorry, it was the only tent I had. I forgot to pick a smaller one up," he apologized to the group.
Arthur's smile didn't fade as he peaked inside. "You could fit a large cottage in here," he remarked with a laugh. "We'll go ahead and erect the others too, just so the witches have somewhere to sleep tonight without it being cramped."
While the others were working, Harry peered inside Sirius' tent and stopped in the doorway. Massive couldn't begin to describe it. The interior looked like a picture straight out of a medieval banquet hall, complete with carved stone flooring. He blinked and looked around again, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
"My parents were big on first impressions. Yes, everything is gold inlaid, and yes, it is overkill for any sort of picnic. They felt they had to live up to the Black family name at all times. I knicked this before I ran away with your father. I forgot I'd hidden it in the trophy room until Remus and I were enchanting your maze."
"Everything is so green," Harry mused as he watched tendrils of green smoke rising from the snake braisers around the room.
"Slytherins," Sirius commented with a snort. "There are four sleeping quarters off this main hall. You'll have a room to yourself after the match is over. It's a longer walk than I realized, so we'll need to stay the night."
"Will it be okay? You..." Harry said, but Sirius cut him off.
"It will be just fine, Harry. There are thousands of wizards here. Even when Voldemort was in his prime, I'm not sure he'd attempt to attack or kidnap you in the middle of this. He's crazy, insane even, but he isn't stupid."
Mr. Weasley's two tents were modest but none the less amazing. The two red and gold tents on either side of the large green and silver tent made Harry feel like he was attending an event at Hogwarts. "You never really get away from the House you were sorted into," he commented with a laugh.
"In general, no. The four Houses are so integral to British society that I don't think it will ever change," Sirius answered with a laugh. "Not that that is a bad thing. It's only in settings like these that it really stands out. In the Ministry, you can barely tell who was sorted into what House for good reason. Shops in Diagon Alley don't want to alienate potential customers. After you leave Hogwarts, few truly care which House you belonged to except to hold grudges or to show how proud they are of their House."
Harry looked from Sirius to the other tents around them. He could see a smattering of familiar color schemes but the vast majority of the tents were shades of browns, whites, and blacks.
The hours leading up to the match went by in a rush. Harry wandered through the forest of tents and wizards with his friends, talking, joking, and occasionally stopping at the cluster of stalls set up around the large field. He bought Ron, Hermione, Neville, and himself a pair of Omnioculars. It looked like a Muggle binocular but had a large section in the middle that he could fiddle with to zoom in and replay whatever the lenses captured. Ron wanted them so he could watch the match, but Harry couldn't wait to try and take it apart and learn the enchantments placed over the rather ingenious tool.
"Blimey, is that Oliver Wood?" Ron asked before running across the field to a stocky youth.
"Ron?" Oliver said as he turned his head around. Two older witches were with him, and it took Harry a moment to realize they must be Wood's family from their similar facial features.
"Blimey, I got your letter. How did the tryouts go?" Ron questioned in a rush.
"I did it, mate! I got on the team. It's the reserve team, but the Puddlemere United reserve team offered me a spot."
"Brilliant!" Ron shouted and clapped his old captain on the back. Harry met Wood's mother and older sister while Ron and Oliver talked about the tryout in detail. Hermione was interested in Oliver's mother's profession. Telly worked as a facilitator for families to contract with house-elves.
Oliver and his family weren't the only familiar faces Harry ran into. Ernie Macmillian, a Hufflepuff fourth year, greeted them with a wave. Seamus Finnigan, a fellow Gryffindor in their year, decked out in all green robes, greeted them from a large group of green tents. Dean Thomas waved to them from beside a gaggle of redheaded witches. The thick growth of shamrocks sparkled and shown, casting a green tint to everything in the area.
Witches and Wizards from all over the world had come to see the Quidditch World Cup. Some of the banners of clustered tents were in different languages, while others stood out to him. "That's the Salem Witches' Institute," he commented to Hermione as they passed a group of black and white tents. Several attractive young witches stood together, watching the people go by and talking to themselves in low, giggling voices.
"I heard their Headmistress got into some trouble over the summer," Hermione said with a smirk. "Ted said it was something scandalous that young witches shouldn't hear about, so I'm sure it had to be bad. The Daily Prophet doesn't run too many articles about foreign magical communities. Such a same. We should communicate more."
"That's more a holdover from long ago when entire communities could be wiped out by Muggles. Well, not so long ago. Maybe two hundred or more years. Dumbledore's father might have been alive when the last recorded purge happened," Harry remarked as they passed a group of tents pained with every color imaginable. He had to look away from the tents so he wouldn't lose his balance. It took him a moment to realize the tents might be enchanted to keep prying eyes away.
"I keep telling you Krum will get the Snitch," Ron complained to Fred as Harry found a seat on the grass beside Mr. Weasley and Sirius.
"Those are good odds," a booming voice called.
Harry looked up to see Ludovic Bagman. He'd seen the charismatic wizard featured in numerous Daily Prophet articles in recent weeks. The famous Beater was blonde with striking blue eyes and round, ruddy cheeks. Little of his athletic build remained from his younger days as the Department Head adjusted his belt to make room for his gut. "I could give you good odds on that bet, boys. A lot of people are betting Victor Krum will get the Snitch," Bagman announced with a boyish grin.
"Ireland will win though," George called out as he appeared from inside the tent. Two more familiar figures appeared a moment later, trailing behind their brother. Bill Weasley, his tanned face smiling, waved to Harry as he stepped over to stand beside his father. Charlie Weasley, a much stocker version of Ron, nodded to Harry as he took a large bite of a huge sandwich.
"Krum will get the Snitch, but Ireland will win?" Bagman asked with a tone of incredulity. "Not a chance, boys, not a chance. Care to put your Galleons where your mouth is?"
"Now, boys," Mr. Weasley said in a firm voice.
"Nonsense, Arthur. They're old enough to know what they want," Bagman cajoled as he stepped closer to Fred and George. "I'll give you great odds on that bet."
The twins rooted around in their pockets and came up with fifty Galleons to place on the bet. Ludo's eyes sparkled as Fred produced one of the fake wands they'd created. "Merlin's beard, this is brilliant!" he exclaimed when the wand gave off a loud squawk when he waved it around. "I haven't seen a fake wand this convincing in years. I'll throw in another eight Galleons for the fake wand."
After Bagman had left, Harry put his head together with the twins. "What are your chances?" he questioned, genuinely interested in their assessment of the two teams.
"We aren't throwing the Galleons away," Fred assured him. "The Irish Chasers and Keeper are the best-of-the-best. Unless they decide to throw the game, they will win as long as Krum doesn't get the Snitch too early."
"It's your money to do with what you want," Harry assured his friend with a smile. "I was just wondering how confident you were on the bet."
"We don't take sucker's bets," George explained with a smirk. "Anyone who's followed the matches this year knows that Krum has to get the Snitch early to win. Bulgaria won't win otherwise."
Harry found himself engrossed in a conversation with Bill and Sirius. They were talking about Curse Breaking strategies and magics that he'd never heard of before. It annoyed and excited him to realize how much his godfather knew. He couldn't wait to pick his brain later for the various questions he had on the subject after watching Bill show off the previous year.
The time for the match arrived faster than Harry would have liked. He enjoyed everyone's company and didn't want to leave. Ron almost ran to the stadium looming in the distance. Harry goggled at the sheer size of the Quiddich Stadium. It must have been twice or more the size of the one at Hogwarts. The thrum of enchantments that permeated every beam of the massive structure made his skin tingle as he followed the others up the winding narrow staircases to the higher floors.
"Blimey, you can see everything!" Ron exclaimed as he entered the Elite Box Sirius had purchased tickets for.
"The Top Box is above us. We can see just as well as they can, except we're closer to the pitch, so," Sirius informed everyone with an eye on Harry. "You'll have an amazing view of the battle between the Chasers."
"Brilliant!" Harry said as he moved to take one of the seats near the front of the box. Ginny sat beside him on one side, and Ron took the spot closest to the rail so he could see up into the sky better. Once everyone was settled, Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started fiddling with the dials.
"I can make that wizard pick his nose again... and again... and again," he reported with a giggle as he showed Harry the repeating image.
Ginny and Hermione made sounds of disgust as a hand fell on Harry's shoulder. He looked up to see Sirius smiling down at him. "Your father would have loved this," he said in a quiet voice. "I can't tell you how proud I am to be your godfather."
Harry didn't know what to say but nodded. The gesture brought a smile to Sirius' face as he turned to Arthur and continued their conversation on the finer points of Muggle-repelling Enchantments. Harry listened in on their conversation as he surveyed the stadium. A ten-foot wall rose from the oval shape of the pitch. On the wall were moving images that displayed different products or services. Harry had the feeling everyone could read the advertisements because of the way the letters seemed to shimmer and change, but he could still read the English lettering. Above the wall started the seating blocks. Made of some sort of dark wood he didn't recognize, the stands rose for twenty or more rows of seating. Witches and wizards were still pouring out of the narrow tunnels beside the box seating areas. Scattered throughout the stands were large rectangular boxes, similar to the one he was in. Some had seating on top of the boxes, but most either had another box seating above them or more advertisements. Banners hung everywhere that displayed the national colors of Ireland and Bulgaria. Both Quidditch teams had their flag hoisted high in the sky behind one of the two gilded goal posts. Harry felt sorry for whoever got the seating behind the goal posts, because the flags would block much of their view.
"How many people could fit in here?" Harry asked aloud after trying to gauge the sheer size of the stadium.
"Seats ten thousand and the Ministry's had a right time trying to keep that many people hidden from the Muggles," a booming voice called from the entrance to the Box.
Harry and most of the occupants of the box turned to see Ludo Bagman's smiling face. "I was trying to find you all to invite you up to the Top Box, but it seems you're all settled in," he bemoaned with a boyish grin. "Are you sure I can't tempt you? We've got plenty of seating up there? Arthur?"
Harry turned to see Mr. Weasley's strained smile. "I appreciate the offer, Ludo. However, I'd like to watch the match with my family and friends," he got out after a moment.
Bagman's face drooped comically before his smile returned. "Completely understandable, Arthur. Enjoy the match boys!" he called with a wave to the twins. A moment later, the door closed and they were left alone.
"What was that all about?" Bill asked, his eyebrows furrowed. "This morning you got an invitation up to the Top Box in a letter, and now this."
Mr. Weasley looked at all of his children before resting his eyes on Ginny. "The Ministry isn't always rainbows and unicorns. Sometimes, when you move up, you have to... entertain certain important figures. Politics," he finished with a sigh. "I miss my old office," he muttered.
The mood turned somber until a loud reverberation echoed around the stadium. Harry felt a small pressure on his ears as a fainter pulse seemed to infuse the wood around the box. He looked up as Ludo Bagman's voice boomed out from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
A thunderous cheer echoed around the stadium and Harry had the uncomfortable feeling that it was created by magic and not genuine cheers even though he did see multiple people in the stands shouting and waving their hands.
"And now, without further ado, please allow me to introduce... the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!" Ludo exclaimed.
The stands went quiet as a hundred veela glided down onto the pitch from behind the Bulgarian goal posts. Harry knew what to expect and focused on his mental defenses. It wasn't perfect, something he chided himself for, but he didn't look as goggled eyed as Ron or Neville did. He thought he could see drool running down the side of Ron's mouth as he tried to get closer to the railing.
The Veela were the most beautiful, alien women he'd ever seen. Their skin glowed with a moon-bright light as they danced across the pitch, perfectly in sync. Golden-white hair fanned out behind them that caught the breeze. He felt the pressure against his mental barriers as the veela danced and had to look away. Hermione was staring at him, with one hand on Ron's collar so he wouldn't topple over the railing.
"You aren't... nevermind," his friend said with a faint red tinge to her cheeks as her eye flicked back up to his face.
Harry became very aware of what Hermione saw as he crossed his legs and had a sudden urge to put the Omnioculars in his lap. He looked around the box to realize the twins had identical slack-jawed expressions while the older Weasley's had knowing, almost amused expressions. Sirius had a firm hand on Neville's shoulder as the round-faced boy covered his eyes.
The music stopped and the crowd bellowed their disapproval. The veela blew everyone a kiss before swaying their hips as they left the pitch. It took a bit for the crowd to settle down after the shocking display of sexual energy. Ginny giggled to herself as she pointed out numerous witches who were berating their male companions to Hermione. Poor Ron continued to stare into the distance, lost in his thoughts.
"Honestly," Hermione hissed and crossed her arms.
Harry wasn't sure what made his friend so upset but decided it would be better to keep to himself for now. A minute later, Ludo was back. "And now, put your wands in the air for the Irish National Team Mascots!"
Before the last word echoed around the stadium, everything seemed to go green and gold as a comet came zooming into the stadium from high above. A dozen comets broke off from the massive ball of green and gold, arching bright rainbows between them. Harry blinked and tried to figure out what he was seeing. The small comets converged back into the larger one before everything exploded in a shower of golden glinting specks that rained down on the stadium below. Harry heard the thunk of something solid hitting the railing as two fat Galleons bounced into the box.
Where the comet was before, stood a massive green shamrock, glittering in the sky. It took Harry a moment to realize the shamrock was comprised of thousands of tiny bearded men with red vests, each carrying a miniature lamp of gold or green.
"Leprechauns!" Mr. Weasley bellowed over the tumultuous, scattered applause.
Harry smiled as hundreds or thousands of witches and wizards scrabbled around their seats to find the golden Galleons. Ron, excited and beaming, came up with twenty-nine Galleons. "For the Omnioculars," he said and shoved eight coins into Harry's hands.
Harry didn't have the heart to tell him they were fake and took them with a smile. "I bought it as a present, mate. You don't have to pay me back for anything," he said and clapped his friend on his back.
"An now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome... the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you... Dimitrov!" Bagman announced once the shamrock dissolved into a shower of golden sparks.
Harry watched as the team's players were announced and sent onto the pitch. Ron seemed particularly excited for Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The tall, thin, brooding, sallow-skinned young wizard flew onto the field and surveyed the stands with dark, menacing eyes. His curved nose and thick black eyebrows made Krum look like a raven perched atop a broom. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.
The Irish Quidditch Nation Team didn't have a star player like the Bulgarians did, but they were on home ground. Every player received thunderous applause as they entered the pitch. "Welcome our Egyptian referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!" Bagman boomed once the crowd settled down.
After the lengthy introduction ceremony, the lead-up to the start of the match seemed to rush by. Harry watched the short, skinny wizard in golden robes blow twice on his whistle as he mounted his broom. At the same time, every player on the pitch lifted into the air on Firebolts. Harry sat forward and watched as the referee launched the Quaffle high into the air with a wave of his wand.
"Theeeeeey're off!" Bagman boomed. Harry could picture Ludo's boyish smile as he watched one of the Irish Chasers snag the Quaffle.
Rooted in his chair, eyes wide, Harry watched the Chasers battle it out above the pitch. It was Quidditch like he'd never dreamed of seeing. His eyes darted between the players, keeping his attention on who had the Quaffle as Ludo's voice boomed in his ears.
"Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"
A tug on his sleeve made him look over at Ginny. Her big eyes seemed to plead with him as she pointed to the Omnioculars in his lap. Not understanding what she wanted, he passed it to her and went back to watching the ferocious battle of elbows, brooms, and minds for dominance of the Quaffle.
The Irish team got the first goal to thunderous cheers that shook the stadium. He didn't know all of the formations and tactics the two teams used but was still amazed by the Irish team's coordination. For every offensive strategy the Bulgarians sent their way, the Irish Chasers blocked or mitigated the damage the other team could inflict on them. The Quaffle remained firmly in Irish hands for the majority of the time. He marveled at the way the two skilled teams seemed to be attacking and riposting each other.
Ireland took a large lead of fifty-to-zero before Bulgaria got their first goal. "Plug your ears, boys," Mr. Weasley bellowed as the veela took the field again.
Harry didn't bother and was able to block their enchanting song and dance with little trouble. His eyes remained locked on the Quaffle as it flitted back and forth between Irish Chasers as they rocketed up the field. Before the veela had finished their victory dance, Troy, grinning like a madman, got the Quaffle past the Bulgarian Keeper again.
The leprechauns soared over the veela, raining golden Galleons on their heads to cut off their song. The screech of the veela made Harry look down. They didn't look even remotely beautiful now. Sharp teeth and longer talons appeared as their facade of beauty vanished. Harry thought they looked more like harpies as fireballs flew from their hands, aimed at the escaping leprechauns.
That seemed to be the turning point for the game. Both sides fought for the Quaffle harder than before and seemed to care little for the rules. Hassan had to stop the game seven times in the space of fifteen minutes for fouls on both sides. Troy was the first to get bloodied by Dimitrov's right hook to the side of his face. Aidan Lynch, the Irish Seeker, was the next to need medical treatment after Krum's feint sent Lynch careening, face-first, into the pitch at top speed. Harry had to replay the Wronski Defensive Feint two times on Neville's Omnioculars to understand how masterfully Krum pulled the defensive maneuver off. He was shocked and amazed at how easily the Bulgarian Seeker handed his broom. A desire to test his skills against the best-of-the-best burned in his chest, but he pushed it aside. He had other things in his life, and Quidditch wasn't his priority. A moment later, he grimaced. He really did want to see how he'd stand up against the professional player.
The game devolved into a brawl on brooms as the two team's Chasers fought for scores. This style of gameplay seemed to favor the Bulgarians as they gained a few more goals. That was until the coach for the Irish team called a timeout. After a quick timeout, the Irish Chasers seemed to have gotten their teamwork back and trounced the Bulgarians.
"Krum has about five minutes before the Irish team wins," George announced into the silent box.
"I agree," Sirius commented with a grin and leaned forward. "The Irish Chasers are flying circles around the tried Bulgarians. Krum has to get the Snitch now if he wants his team to win. Ireland is almost one hundred and fifty points ahead."
Harry nodded and went back to watching the game. He'd become so engrossed in the flying skills of the players that he'd forgotten to keep track of the score. "Krum is diving!" Bagman bellowed in his ears as he watched Troy get another goal. It would be close.
"The Snitch! It's there!" Ron bellowed and pointed.
Harry glanced upward and flicked his eyes around until he saw a golden fleck of light. It took him a moment later to realize it was the Snitch when Krum followed the light's flickering path toward the Irish side of the stadium. He wanted to watch the Chasers below, but instead, he focused on how Krum controlled his broom. Even without the Omnioculars, his glasses allowed him to see the slight touches and gentle adjustments the skilled Seeker made to alter his flight.
"Bloody hell, he's good," he muttered as Krum rocketed closer to the Snitch while dodging a cluster of Chasers going the opposite direction.
"They're going for the Snitch!" Ron bellowed over the rising tide of noise around the stadium.
Both Seekers were aimed at the ground, trying to chase after the impossibly fast Snitch. Harry had a gut feeling as he glanced at the ground.
"They're going to crash," Hermione gasped from beside him.
"They're not!" Ron countered.
"Lynch will," Harry and Ginny said at the same time. They exchanged a look before turning back to the struggle above the pitch.
Krum pulled away at the last second, but Lynch didn't have the same luck. He slammed into the ground again, with greater force than before. Harry thought he heard something break and winced. The man wasn't moving on the pitch as a team of mediwizards rushed onto the field.
"Ireland wins!" Bagman bellowed into the stadium. He, like most of the spectators, seemed stunned. "Krum gets the Snitch, but Ireland wins," he announced, incredulity evident in his voice.
"We got it right!" the twins bellowed at the same time and danced on the spot. "We're rich," they said in unison again.
The closing ceremony was blissfully short as Aiden Lynch swayed back and forth beside his team. Moran and Connolly held their Seeker up on his feet as they shook hands with the Bulgarian team and received a massive golden cup. Lynch promptly threw up all over the pitch as his teammates tried to lead him toward the locker room.
"That was the best Quidditch match I've ever seen," Ron moaned as they filed down the stairs. "Harry, what did you think?"
"Brilliant. Simply, brilliant," he answered with a large smile.
