Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
I feel like I've written a lot of Quidditch stuff lately - guess there wasn't too much else to do for third year... fourth year however... can't wait for fourth year.
ALSO: Bagman's direct speech is stolen directly from the Goblet of Fire by JKR as there's no reason any of his commentary would change anyways... enjoy!
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!" Ludo Bagman, the ministry department head for magical games - also an ex-beater, a good one at that - was commentating from all the way up in the top box, where Nev was. The pre-match mascots had been, but unfortunately had not gone. The Irish leprechauns had been fun, fireworks flaring up into the skies in an array of green, and an odd shamrock float from which galleons upon galleons had rained down on the crowds. Harry would be surprised if someone hadn't got conked on the head from one.
The veelas on the other hand, they were a bit of a problem. Bulgaria's national mascots were, at first appearance, beautiful women who'd danced out onto the pitch causing a frenzy. The only distinctive feature between the veelas and a human woman were just how beautiful they were, it was almost supernatural. Their skin shone in the darkness, clear and perfect even when projected up onto the pixelated big screen, with voices of angels. All the men - and a few women - had all simultaneously lurched forwards, pressing their bodies against the barriers, some even trying to climb over it.
Luckily the veelas had stopped just in time, some men, like Dudley, were half over the barriers before the Irish came out and stole the attention. Harry was scared to think of what could have happened had they been out even ten seconds longer - a mass suicide from a stacked stadium perhaps.
"I give you - Dimitrov!" The Bulgarian team captain burst out onto the pitch, clad in scarlet quidditch robes that whizzed around the field so fast he was only a blur in the distance. The Bulgarian supporters leapt into an rambunctious applause for their captain. Harry handed his omnioculars to Luke who peered curiously through the lenses, a childlike smile of glee on his face. "Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaaand - Krum!" The entire packed stadium rose to their feet for the young seeker, even the Irish supporters clamoured at the top of their lungs for the exciting prospect.
Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy in his chest; imagine being a school boy and having a hundred thousand fans screaming your name for your talent. Imagine being famous for something like Quidditch, instead of your parents being murdered and you surviving...
The seven Bulgarian players fit into a sleek formation, taking a speedy lap of the pitch before lining up into their positions as the Irish plays got called out to even louder applause. Most of the supporters were supporting the Ireland national team due to the proximity of the country - Harry, for instance, was supporting it on behalf of Lisa, and he knew that others such as Neville would be supporting it for Seamus.
"And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team!" Bagman yelled as Luke handed the omnioculars over to Dudley. "Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand Lynch!"
"Bloody brilliant." The doctor murmured. "I can't believe... Well, it's one thing hearing about it from you, or even just seeing your broom, but it's a whole other thing seeing these boys flying around on actual broomsticks."
Harry grinned, gently leaning into Luke's side. "Thanks, for all of this."
"I'm starting to think it's as much as a present for me as it is for you. This is amazing!" Luke enthused.
"Seconded." Dudley seemed almost at a loss for words as handed Harry back his omnioculars. Harry had been fiddling with the little dials ever since Terry had gifted him, and now considered himself almost an expert at knowing when to go to slow motion, or how to rewind time - he'd practiced it with football matches on the television to great effect. He'd even figured out how he could save the match afterwards so he'd be able to re-watch it when it was all over.
Harry turned his attention to the players as Bagman introduced the referee. He focussed in on the two seekers, Krum and Lynch who were having a stare down in the middle of the pitch. The seventeen year old looked composed, as if he didn't even realise he was hovering in a stadium full to the brim of it's 100,000 capacity, whilst thousands more listened into the commentary from all over the world, his expression bordered on arrogant with how calm he looked, whilst Lynch wore the expression of a man who'd eaten bad eggs for breakfast. That was the face of a man about to play against what many were calling the best seeker around.
Harry averted his gaze from the players, turning to the crowd with the half-hearted hope of catching sight of Terry, or Mike, or maybe Anthony if he'd managed to get over from America. It took him roughly ten seconds to realise that there was no chance of finding his friends within the blur of the packed and buzzing crowd. Instead he turned his attention to the top box, where he knew he'd at least be able to find Neville. It was easy to find the top box, based on it being - as sounds - the highest row in the stadium, and being brighter lit than a Christmas tree.
Harry easily located Neville - it was simple really, find the row of redheads, then spot the odd one out. Neville was grinning from ear to ear as he chatted with Ron who sat besides him, Leprechaun gold clutched in his hand as if was a lifeline (and not fickle gold that would disappear before the match was over). Besides him sat Hermione, who was talking to Ginny and one of the Weasley twins - Fred? George? Harry had no clue. No one ever did - especially not from this kind of distance - but Harry suspected the twins liked it that way, finding enjoyment in the confusion of others.
Spotting a familiar blonde haired boy in the corner of his view he panned up. Draco Malfoy was sitting between a woman (who based on her sneering face, was very likely his mother) and his father, Lucius Malfoy, who was engrossed in conversation with the minister of magic, Cornelius Fudge, and a man whom, based on his scarlet robes, was likely the Bulgarian Minister for Magic. The blonde seemed apathetic, the stark contrast to the Weasleys who were buzzing around in their seats. Perhaps he was being snooty, but for some reason Harry felt otherwise. He looked, almost worried. Harry had no clue why. He didn't seem like the type to be that invested in who won the final...
Dudley tugged his shirt to regain Harry's attention. In the middle of the field, upon their broomsticks the captains had just finished shaking hands. The two held expressions of animosity worse than Harry had seen at any Quidditch match Hogwarts had hosted - even the Flint-Wood match-up which always resulted in more fouls than could be counted.
"It's starting." Dudley was bouncing on his seat in excitement.
Then the referee, a stout wizard without a single thread of hair on his head, went forwards to a trunk and released the balls. The bludgers exploded into the air in eagerness, as the snitch glittered away into the darkness, whilst the Quaffle patiently hovered in the middle of the field. "Theeeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman as the players raced towards the balls. The Quidditch World Cup Final had started.
"AWOOO!" Michael howled into the night air causing his sister to giggle hysterically. It was definitely past her bedtime, but no one cared, especially Mike's dad who was already on his second firewhisky.
They were sitting around a small camp fire Luke had set up outside their tent, roasting marshmallows and eagerly discussing every detail of the match.
"That Wronski Feint," Harry drooled, "I wish I could do one that well - and the way Lynch went crashing into the ground."
"Classic." Mike agreed before cursing profanities his eleven year old sister definitely shouldn't be hearing as his marshmallow dropped into the fire. Harry had no proof, but he was pretty sure that he'd snuck some of his dad's drinks. Harry quickly handed Mike a new marshmallow.
"Did you see the way he got smashed in the face though," Dudley grinned - he hadn't stopped smiling all evening. "that was well hard."
"Barely even flinched," Harry said jealously. He wished he was that good of a seeker. Krum was only three years older than him as well.
Fireworks shot up into the night sky into the image of a leprechaun which gleefully jeered over the disappointed Bulgarian camp. "He's pretty awesome." Mike's sister nodded enthusiastically, her cheeks a little red - perhaps from the cold, but probably not. "Catching the snitch like that."
"Harry could do that," Mike nudged his shoulder jovially, "you should have seen him against Hufflepuff last year, Ravenclaw were up by 140 points but it was too late, the snitch had been seen." Michael began dramatically, keen for his audience, none of whom (bar Harry of course) had seen the match. "Diggory - the Hufflepuff captain, seeker, and a bloke with two years on this runt - was fast... But not fast enough ey Harry?"
Harry grinned, the memory in his head still as sweet as the butterbeer that had been drunk that night.
"Still can't believe you actually play that." Dudley said, biting down on a marshmallow with no care for how hot it is.
"So does Mike," Harry replied, "he'll probably get onto the team next year with Granty leaving - Jeremy wants to go to keeper so this one will finally join me."
"I don't know, Randolph will probably be placed ahead of me - he is older." Michael shrugged nonchalantly, but however hard he tried he couldn't hide the huge grin spreading over his face, his eyes gleaming with thoughts of playing on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.
"C'mon Mike, a little more confidence." Harry said, playing the game - he knew Mike liked the attention.
"Yeah Mike, confidence." His little sister, Lizzie, repeated eagerly. "Then I'll get to see you play and you won't be such an embarrassment."
Harry and Dudley broke down in laughter as Michael pouted, unable to keep the amused glint out of his eyes. It was probably so funny as it was because Lizzie simply adored her big brother - but right now she looked very proud of herself, clearly happy to have made the boys laugh. She'd been relatively shy when they'd first met two weeks ago when Harry first found Mike, coincidentally stationed in the same field as him, but now she was confident with the boys, especially enthusiastic whenever they regaled her with tales of Hogwarts., which she couldn't stop talking about.
Harry couldn't blame her. He remembered how excited he was with the school, even now he still had those moments of amazement especially when he was with Luke or Dudley who constantly reminded Harry how damn magical magic was.
He felt like it was impossible to not be excited to go to Hogwarts. Whether you were a muggleborn (which in terms of experience Harry practically was), or a half-blood like Mike and Lizzie who knew about magic and occasionally saw it but largely lived in the muggle world, or a pureblood like Draco or Daphne. It was Hogwarts.
"Soon." She grinned, bouncing her knees impatiently, her thoughts clearly on the same wavelength as Harry. He caught her eye and grinned at her, and somehow her smile got even wider. Harry heard another firework and turned his head to see what the Irish had come up with this time, but, oddly enough he couldn't see anything at all.
It took another ten seconds until he realised the laughter and excited screams coming from the Irish camp where no longer laughter and excited screams, but screams of terror and pain and fear. It took another ten seconds for him to shake Luke out of it, who seemed frozen at how quickly everything change. It took ten more seconds for everyone to start sprinting as far away as they could from the Quidditch World Cup.
Harry raced through the forest. He quickly glanced behind him, sighing in relief as he made sure that Dudley and Luke were still following him, only a small distance between them. They'd separated from Mike and his family earlier, losing each other in the chaos as the Corners had sprinted back to their own tents. Harry and Luke hadn't even bothered. They were just clothes and toys - they weren't worth lives. Though he would miss his omnioculars, and all the recordings he saved, he mused sadly before shaking himself out of it, he really didn't have time for that. Suddenly a body grabbed him and slammed him into a tree.
"Fuck!" Harry exclaimed as the wind got knocked out of him. His head instinctively dropping towards the ground before he remembered what was going on and snapped back up to see his attacker, his heart beating half-way out of his chest. "Draco?" Harry asked, surprised, but it was definitely him. The blonde was easily recognisable, his hair shining in the dark as bright as the moon. His eyes widened and his mouth opened partway as if he was about to say something. Then a body slammed into his, knocking him off of his feet.
"Wait, Dudley wait! He's my friend." Harry quickly stopped his cousin, stepping between the two as Draco clambered back to his feet.
"He's an ally?" Luke asked, his head darting around the forest, looking for potential threats.
"Yeah."
Draco grabbed Harry's arm, taking his attention back to him. "I've been looking for you everywhere. You've got to get out of here, it's not safe for you - for them." His eyes darted from Dudley to Luke.
"Looking for me?"
"Not the time. Come on, I know where's safe - let's go!" He ordered sharply after a moments hesitation. Before starting to run in a different direction to where they were heading before. Harry didn't even have time to check if they were going into safety, Draco was dragging his arm, forcing him to come with him. Harry quickly got a hold of himself and started running of his own accord, a quick glance behind him proved Dudley and Luke had already begun the same.
It felt like they'd been running for hours, weaving in between trees and ducking under branches, but however far they ran they could still hear the screaming from the campsite, the sound of spells being shouted and other people running through the forest. "A little bit further." Draco yelled over his shoulder, almost tripping over a tree trunk before regaining his balance. A few moments later they reached a small clearing.
A car whizzed past them, it's lights momentarily blinding them before it had gone, just as quickly as it came. "Over the road. Then we'll be safe." Draco told Harry, breathing heavily. They quickly crossed the road, onto some sort of farmland probably owned by one of the muggles currently being tortured in the fields. They tentatively approached a shed, all on hedge and heaving in and out from the physical exertion. The door creaked open loudly - too loudly, but soon they were inside and for the first time in what was likely an hour, they were safe.
"There's an inn down the road in that direction," Draco pointed to the right, his arm barely visible in the darkness. "I think there's some transit there too, a bus maybe. Muggles use busses right?" he asked and Harry nodded slowly, confused at this whole exchange. "It's about a thirty minute walk, so you shouldn't do it tonight. Tomorrow morning everything will be back to normal again. It'll be safe." Draco looked nervously around the barn.
"Hey." Harry grabbed his arm, pulling his focus back to him. "What's going on? What did you mean you were looking for me? Is this why you were so nervous at the match?" Harry interrogated.
"Nervous at the match..." Draco trailed off in confusion, his brow creased into a frown. "How did you see me in the match.?"
"You were top box." Harry replied defensively. "Everyone saw you during the trophy display." Harry pretended that he wasn't referencing how he'd zoomed in on Draco's expression before the match.
"Right."
"You were looking for me?" Harry prompted before realising something. "You knew this was coming." He stated, ignoring the confused looks being exchanged between Luke and Dudley. "Your father."
"Yeah." Draco replied, shuffling his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
Harry frowned, biting back retorts to tell Draco he should have told someone - he wasn't stupid. He knew it wasn't that simple. He also knew Draco just saved his, and his family's life. "Why were you looking for me?" Harry asked. The unspoken question clear: why not Blaise, or Daphne, even Mike or Terry.
"You're here with muggles." Draco explained, as if it was obvious. "You and your family were the most in danger. Of course I tried to help you - I've been looking for you all day." He added. "I tried to find you, to warn you."
"You tried to warn me but not anyone else." Harry bit back before he could stop himself. He couldn't restrain the slight bitterness he felt that Draco did nothing to stop the actual attack - how many ministry officials had been wandering around the fields, how many people were available, who Draco could have told so easily. Yet he did nothing, and put everyone in danger. Then he reminded himself that this didn't happen because of Draco. It wasn't his fault.
"Do you know what my father would do to me if he knew I was here?" Draco's voice was in a hushed whisper, but it still felt like he was shouting at Harry. "If I'd told someone, he'd kill me. I get it, I'm a coward. You'd do better - you're brave... Not everyone's perfect, Harry."
Harry scoffed. "I'm far from perfect." He grabbed Draco's arm, forcing him to turn back towards him. "I'm sorry." He muttered. "And... thank you. For saving our lives." He turned to Luke and Dudley, who, though still out of breath, were both alright. "If the death-eaters had found them..." Harry couldn't even finish the sentence. Images of those muggles in the sky being tortured were stamped into the back of his eyes, his head twisting them and convoluting them until it was Dudley and Luke being tortured and hung up to dry. "Thank you." Harry repeated.
Draco nodded slowly, he seemed almost surprised. "I have to go." He said. "I need to get back before my father realises I'm not there... if he..." Draco trailed off, scratching the nape of his neck nervously.
"Go." Harry told him, gently pushing him. "Be safe." He added, his eyes burning into Draco's own, trying to explain how much he needed him to actually be ok and not get in trouble for saving them, not get hurt... He'd saved them. Draco Malfoy had saved them - had saved him.