Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Today had been, indisputably, the best birthday of Harry's life, even though it wasn't his actual birthday. In his first year, upon discovering his real identity, Harry had panicked and told Terry his birthday was not the 31st of July, but the 4th of August - believing sharing a birthday with the famous Harry Potter, whilst already sharing his first name, might be too obvious.
Harry regretted it deeply. Not pretending he was born on a different date... No, that was quick thinking which he was almost proud of. He did regret however choosing a birthday so late in the year. If he'd only lied that he was born in early July, then he'd have been 'older' than Terry, who was born on the 23rd of the same month. Or he could have pretended he was born in January and then been able to spend his birthday with his friends at school - or if he got really lucky at Hogsmeade - and then he also wouldn't have been the youngest in their friendship group. It was an odd point of pride amongst the boys about who was the oldest - in fact, they were competitive about almost everything; age, height, exam results, quidditch teams and so on.
He had just turned 14. Each birthday felt like a milestone, one which Harry was lucky to have reached, between Voldemort trying to kill him (twice), and with Sirius Black still being at large. Fortunately the mass-murderer had moved on from his Hogwarts' endeavours - though even now no one knew what he'd been trying to do - unfortunately Harry had still been having nightmares about it, he presumed they were stress-induced. But they were just dreams.
Harry had seen Terry and Michael earlier (Anthony, as he usually was for the summers, was in America, with his relatives) in the day, and him and Michael had introduced Terry to football - a sport he had taken to quite well. He claimed that Quidditch without brooms was exactly the game for him, as it didn't require the same distance (or heights) as the popular wizarding sport did. In fact, playing with Dudley, he'd actually won the 2v2 they played.
He'd also been particularly pleased with his haul of presents this year. Michael had gotten him an interesting book exploring the inter-connectivity between Arithmancy and muggle maths, as well as a box of chocolate frogs, whilst Anthony had also mailed over a lot of sweets - Harry was particularly interested to try out the American magical sweets, which before today he hadn't even heard of.
Terry had gotten him a pair of omnioculars, which Harry was confused about, but Terry only shared a wink with Luke (much to Harry's bemusement, as he hadn't even realised they were that friendly, having only seen each other at the train platform a couple of times). Harry was also pleasantly surprised to receive a wizarding chess set from his new friend Daphne Greengrass, who'd accompanied it with a brief note that she expected him to practice so it wasn't as easy to beat him this year. (Harry had a particularly embarrassing ongoing losing streak).
Dudley, who Harry had reconnected with this time last year, had also made him a card - he didn't have enough pocket money to buy him a proper present, something which he apologised for (though Harry quickly assured him that was unnecessary). The two had become almost close over the past year. During the previous summer Harry had been forced to meet up with him more often out of boredom which had arisen from being grounded. Then over Christmas Harry had found himself actually choosing to hang out with his cousin, eventually realising he actually enjoyed his time with him.
It was nice hanging out with a muggle, someone who he could talk to about football, and someone who he didn't need to lie to. Dudley knew first-hand about Vernon, about the coma. He knew Harry's pain, he knew about his identity. Ever since they'd had that conversation over Easter they'd grown even closer. Dudley had questioned the strange occurrences he remembered from their childhood - Harry's displays of accidental magic - and Harry had told him. Everything. From getting the letter, to finding out his identity, to the basilisk and Tom Riddle, and then Sirius Black.
It was, in theory, against the laws to tell a muggle about the magical world - it broke the Statue of Secrecy. However, Harry looked it up and found the loophole - if you look hard enough at anything, you will always find a loophole (it was somewhat of a Ravenclaw mantra) - and realised that relatives were allowed to know. So Dudley had been looped in, which took another weight of Harry's back. It meant now that Harry truly didn't have to hide anything from Dudley. He could boast about winning the quidditch cup (he was still proud about that catch in the final match against Cedric Diggory) or vent his frustrations with Dumbledore, or his fears about Black.
He could always talk about these things to Luke, but it was different having someone his age who he could express his feelings to. With a parent their primary reaction is always going to be to help you, to protect you, but with a friend, a cousin, a brother you could just express your feelings and get compassion, a 'that's cool' or 'that sucks', and sometimes that was all Harry needed. Somehow, the boy who used to torment him had become a friend to him. A brother. Family.
"Hey." Luke walked into the room, an impish grin on his face that he just couldn't hide. He was holding two plates with slices of Harry's birthday cake on it. "Here." He muttered, handing him the plate and then slumping onto the other side of the armchair. Harry had been watching a re-run of a football match, he picked up the remote to turn the volume down. "So, how was your day?" Luke asked.
"Great." Harry enthused, his eyes gleaming as he caught sight of the presents which were still littering the floor beneath his feet - he hadn't taken them up to his bedroom yet, in fact he hadn't even stepped foot in his room since the morning. He knew as soon as he did that would mean his birthday was effectively over, and he didn't want it to ever end. "Thank you." Harry said, turning to face Luke with a small smile. "For everything."
Luke smiled, his eyes darted between the pile of presents and Harry. "Did you get everything you wanted?" Luke asked and Harry immediately nodded, not even thinking about the answer. His friends had gotten him far more than he'd expected, and Luke had gotten him a decent amount of presents too. A variety of clothes, a snitch, a small assortment of food, and some other gifts. He'd gotten everything he'd asked for - plus the snitch as a surprise gift he was excited to be able to try out when he returned to Hogwarts. For now he was playing with it around the house. Letting it hover for a few seconds before catching it - testing his reflexes.
The snitch was currently on a setting to not go more than five metres away from Harry - it was a new edition which meant that the snitch was less likely to get lost, or to run away as had happened before. Quality Quidditch Supplies had released the new model just as school ended, and Harry had his eye on it ever since he met up with Terry in Diagon Alley for his own birthday. It meant the snitch could be used as a toy around the house, as opposed to only on the quidditch field, or competitively.
Luke's eyebrow lifted minutely. "Everything?" He repeated, a grin still tugging at the corner of his lips.
Harry frowned, wondering why he repeated the question. He hadn't asked for anything else, so he wasn't sure what Luke was indicating. Of course Harry had half-hearted wishes to have the new Firebolt - the fastest broom on the circuit, fit for professions - it was being used at the Quidditch World Cup which was going on in England at the moment. Most matches were taking place at certain stadiums around the country.
Lisa had enthusiastically detailed about a match between Scotland and Luxembourg which took place in the Ballycat Bats' stadium, where her brother still worked as a team doctor, leading her to get tickets and being able to see it alive. If he was being really honest, Harry was a little jealous. He'd love to be able to watch a professional quidditch match, any match would do, even if it was a second division game, but with the world cup going on he was even more jealous of those who got to see it happening - especially as it was happening on home soil for the first time in thirty years.
He'd purchased a cheap radio with the money from his parents' trust vault, he mainly used the vault for school equipment, but every so often he'd buy something just for him - he figured that his parents would want that for him, and if they didn't... well, they couldn't do much about it, they were dead after all... The radio had come in handy over the summer, he'd ended up spending hours holed up listening to match commentaries in his room, or the kitchen, or the living room - anywhere would do. Luke laughed at his obsession, but even he'd gotten to the point where he'd occasionally joined in listening to the matches, asking Harry questions about the players or how the game was played.
The semi-finals had taken place yesterday, and Bulgaria and Ireland were the teams who had gotten to the final. Due to the local nature of the team, Harry was leaning towards the support of Ireland, but Bulgaria's seeker was the most promising and talented of the game, only seventeen years old and already tearing it up internationally. He was everything Harry aspired to be as a Quidditch player, a pipedream, for sure, but everyone's allowed to have their own unrealistic hopes and dreams for the future. Harry wanted to be the next Viktor Krum.
"Yeah?" Harry replied tentatively but even as he spoke the word died in his mouth. Luke proudly pulled out three thin slips of paper. On it were intricate drawings of quidditch players zooming around, and words in block letters.
'QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP FINAL TICKETS
seats 230-2, row 97, east, field 17'
"Holy..." Harry trailed off, his eyes wide as he took in the tickets. As soon as he consolidated the information he leapt at Luke who laughed. "Thank you." He repeated into his chest as he hugged him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He withdrew with a grin and reached for the outstretched tickets. "I can't believe..." Harry was lost for words.
"Well, you've been talking about it all summer." Luke said. "It's about time we saw a match in real life." Harry grinned at him and hugged him again.
"Three?" He asked with a small quirk of his eyebrows.
"I figured you could invite Dudley." Luke replied. "I know all of your friends already have tickets... I don't know - you don't have to invite him of course, it was just an idea."
"No, that sounds great. I'm sure he'll love it." Harry was still staring at the animated drawings as they flew around the tickets.
"Good. Because we'll need to leave tomorrow."
"Wait, what?" Harry asked confused. "It takes place on the 18th." He reminded Luke.
"I know, but as we have cheaper tickets they want us to arrive early. It seats a hundred thousand remember, it takes a lot of organisation, and time to be able to sort everyone out." Luke said. "I've got a tent in the garage. It's just about big enough to squeeze us all in, if you're up for a bit of camping."
Harry grinned. "Absolutely."
They'd been at the venue for just shy of two weeks. Harry had spent most of them exploring the area with Luke or Dudley - or both - and playing games with Dudley and Mike. There were dozens of fields booked full, wizards coming over for the finals from all necks of the world. Luckily the Bulgarian and Irish fans were separated into different fields, the two were both extremely passionate, and sometimes even managed to get into fist fights despite the distance.
Harry was impressed at the organisation. Forcing a hundred thousand wizards to camp out in fields was no easy endeavour. To get the majority of them out of their robes and into jeans and t-shirts was also impressive - and funny. Most wizards were confidently clueless about muggle attire. Much to Harry and Dudley's amusement they'd seen multiple wizards in floral dresses, or ministry officials who were wearing their jeans inside out - even one man who seemed to get confused into wearing a girl's skirt as a hat.
The stadium itself however was still the eye-catching thing around. It was absolutely enormous, in a way that made Harry (and especially Dudley, who was slightly afraid of heights) glad that they had the cheap seats towards the bottom. It was made to seat all a hundred thousand wizards who made their way to the Dartmoor grounds.
It was also precariously built in the way that all wizarding structures seemed to be. Wizards would just spontaneously add extensions to their houses - and not on the ground floor - magic rendered construction ideals and architecture pointless. A similar principle seemed to be applied to the stadium. Harry had overheard some wizards talking about adding rows to the top due to extra demand. That comment had gotten Luke's eyes bulging out of his head - the stadium was already taller than the Eifel tower.
Walking around the grounds was getting more interesting by the day with the crowds beginning to gather in full mass. The small Irish camp had more than quadrupled in size, and was now a proper hub, easily recognisable from the 'greenness' of it all - not a single centimetre of tent was left un-painted or without posters of their players. The Bulgarian fields adopted similar principles, though their posters were less team-based and more Krum-fixated. The stocky seeker sat on most of the posters, perched on his broom with a stoic expression on his face.
With only hours to go vendors were racing around selling things at extortionate prices such as small flying figurines of the likes of Krum or Moran (Ireland's star chaser), whilst omnioculars - which Terry had brought Harry for his birthday - were going for thirty galleons. Dudley and Luke were obsessed with every little thing happening - Harry couldn't blame them, magical was wonderful.
At the moment Dudley and Luke were by the tent whilst Harry was exploring, trying to see if he could find Terry or one of the others. He'd seen Mike earlier in the week, and even stayed over in his tent one night - it was far bigger than Harry's even though Mike's little sister did take up a lot of the space, excitedly rambling about joining Hogwarts.
Dudley - who was being played off as Harry's adopted brother, as they weren't sure whether cousins counted as close enough relatives to bypass the Statue of Secrecy - had gotten along surprisingly well with Michael, having already met on Harry's birthday. Harry would often return to their area (by some magic they both had tents in the same field) and find them kicking a ball around.
Harry was drawn out of his thoughts as he spotted Neville. The boy was leaner and taller than he was when Harry last saw him, his face almost stern and weary as he walked around - the opposite of Harry's near-constant feelings of elation about just being able to be at the Quidditch World Cup. His serious face however disappeared to make way for a grin as he saw Harry. "Hey Harry."
"Hey, Neville. How's things going?" Harry asked tentatively. He knew that the Gryffindor trio of Neville, Hermione and Ron had been on rocky terms ever since Hermione's cat, a huge ginger tom-cat named Crookshanks, had apparently eaten Ron's rat. Though there was no proof that Crookshanks was the murderer, Ron was convinced that he was the culprit, leading to a lot of arguments between him and Hermione, who was confident of Crookshanks' innocence. It had led to some awkwardness - especially for Neville, who had taken to hanging out with Harry and his friends more towards the end of the year - though Harry hoped that it was all resolved now, for Neville's sake.
"Good." He grinned. "Ron's dad managed to get tickets to the Top Box, enough for all of us to go." The top box was, well, as the name suggests, the top box. It gave the best view of the pending finals, and would be occupied by the likes of Cornelius Fudge, and the Bulgarian minister, as well as Bagman who was commentating, and (according to Terry, who had found out from Blaise) Draco Malfoy and his family.
By the end of the school year Harry had managed to become tentative friends with the blonde. It was hard to not after being forced together not only for their Flying Classes, but also due to Terry and Blaise's budding friendship, which had effectively united the Ravenclaw and Slytherin third years. Harry would definitely never seek Draco out, or choose to be friends to him, and he certainly wouldn't participate in writing letters to him over the summer, but he did make a conscience effort to refer to him as 'Draco' instead of 'Malfoy', something he'd been practicing in his head all summer, in preparation for the new school year.
"Wow." Harry exclaimed, slightly jealous - though at least he didn't have to climb up the probable million steps to get to the box. "That's awesome, Nev." Neville grinned, before asking Harry about his summer. "It was nice - my dad surprised me with the tickets for my birthday which was great. I feel like everyone in our year is here." Harry joked. He'd already seen Tracey Davies from a distance, and was aware that all of the other Ravenclaw boys were here, as well as most of the amiable Slytherins in their year - he wasn't sure whether Crabbe, Goyle and Nott were present (he hoped they weren't). He'd also briefly bumped into Ernie and Justin, two Hufflepuffs, who'd come together, who had also mentioned that Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were also present.
"Yeah, I know. Crazy right? I just saw Seamus and Dean. I s'pose with a hundred thousand seats it's not too surprising though." Neville mused.
"I guess." Harry replied before checking his watch. "I've got to start heading back to my camp - fit in dinner before the match." Harry explained. "You wanna come? I'm sure there'll be plenty of food."
"Uh, I reckon my nan will want me back." Neville nervously looked over his shoulder, as if half-expecting to see Augusta Longbottom, the family matriarch, marching towards him in her obscene vulture-topped hat and obnoxious red handbag. "She keeps introducing me to all these ministry officials." Neville's eyes seemed to hold the struggles of a war hero.
Harry clasped his shoulder. "Well, if you can retreat, we're in Field 17. Come if you can." Harry nodded to him and the two parted ways, Harry returning to his tent, his stomach still buzzing at the thought that there was only now just over three hours until the balls would be released and the match would start. He'd heard and read all about other Quidditch World Cup Finals, last years final between Canada and Scotland had lasted over five days - though Harry doubted this one would last that long. Krum was too good a seeker to let that happen.
Still, Harry was hoping that it would last more than just a few hours - and especially more than the 17 minutes the 1932 final lasted (the shortest final in history). It would be very anticlimactic to be here for thirteen days and then only see thirteen minutes of action. However, even with some trepidation, Harry was still extremely excited - as were Luke and Dudley. Neither of them had even seen a quidditch match before - though Luke had heard plenty of the commentary.
Harry had explained to both of them all about the rules, what was a foul, what was a Quaffle and how many points doing certain things gained you, he'd also explained titbits about each player for them - a lot of the analysis went to Krum. He was the clear star of the Bulgaria team, who wouldn't have passed the group stages without their seeker, which contrasted the Irish team who were all world-class players, with an amazing team chemistry between them. Even just watching them run passing drills was enough to make Harry drool.
It was definitely lining up for an incredible final.