Chapter 5 – The Quidditch World Cup

Harry managed to avoid any introductions to the art of floramancy and whatever else from the Wandwright's curriculum Ernie's mum wanted to inflict on him in the run up to the quarter finals match. Soon enough it was time to go. Harry, Ernie, and Algie were set to leave from somewhere called the 'Travel Room', which Harry supposed was the room in the strange house where the family usually took its Floo, Portkey, or Apparition journeys.

Quite why that needed its own room Harry wasn't sure, but that was the least of the house's oddities.

Harry and Ernie arrived first, a little earlier than their planned departure time since Algie was elsewhere.

"We can just wait here for Dad to get back," said Ernie. "There's even some chairs, look," he said, and gestured to fancy-looking armchairs lining one of the walls.

On the wall opposite the entrance stood a grand fireplace, far larger than Harry had seen anywhere else – it looked big enough for even quite a tall man to step through without slouching. Harry took a seat to wait and glanced around the room. Portraits of Macmillans through the ages sat on the walls, most of them snoozing, and from what Harry could see, only the most important and famous personages had their portraits placed in the Travel Room. He could see Consternation Macmillan, the one who had a Chocolate Frog card, sleeping directly opposite the Floo fireplace.

"We'd usually Portkey in and out of here," continued Ernie, "but Dad thought it would be nicer for you to see the house from the outside when you arrived, so he had the Portkey go there instead. I think today we're taking the Floo, maybe…? Dad didn't say. I know you've got to Portkey to the new stadium they built for the final, since it's in a specially built place, but we're going to one of the normal League stadiums today and you can Floo there usually…"

"What do you think of Ireland's chances to win the Cup?" asked Harry, who was much less interested in the travel arrangements than he was the Quidditch. It made no difference to him – nearly all the ways wizards travelled were unpleasant in some manner. "They said on the Wireless last night that all the bookies are slashing the odds for Ireland to win the whole thing. They've got a really strong team as well, but Bulgaria's got Krum, so…"

"But the Bulgarian team isn't as strong as the Irish team, so they might not even get through to the semis," said Ernie. "They've got Uganda, and Uganda's done really well—they smashed Wales and apart from Krum I reckon they've got the better team overall."

"Yeah, that's a good point," said Harry. "I reckon we'll still see an Ireland-Bulgaria final, though—Krum's just that good as a Seeker he can carry the team, and I don't think that the Canadians will be able to beat Ireland today so unless something funny happens in the semis, Ireland's getting through."

"Well, I bloody hope Ireland wins today," said Ernie. "It's the only home team left in the whole Cup! It's our Cup and three of the four home teams lost."

Harry nodded along with him. England had suffered an embarrassing loss to Transylvania, while Scotland had been knocked out by Luxembourg. Wales had gone further but had still been utterly trounced by Uganda before even reaching the quarters. For the British and Irish Ministry's first hosted Cup in quite a few years, the only hope left was Ireland.

"At least everyone's on Firebolts, so we can account for the broom difference, and it's all just down to skill now, I think," said Harry. He paused. "And a bit of luck, I suppose, but—"

With a loud crack, Ernie's father appeared in the Travel Room holding a little metal ring, just large enough for the three of them to grab.

"Ah, wonderful, boys! You're already here! I've just gone and got us a personal Portkey to the stadium—one of the perks of the job, I should say! Hah!—and we should be ready to go at any moment," he said. "With all the furore over the quarters the Floos will be a nightmare, so just a little bit of a nudge to get things rolling and we've got ourselves a nice little Portkey right inside the stadium."

"How'd you manage that then, Dad?" asked Ernie. "Thought they'd be all about the security, on such a big match…"

"Well, sometimes it pays to drop your name about, Ernest my boy!" said Algie. "Of course, we don't want to be doing it too often—it's uncouth—but sometimes it's just the ticket. The name 'Macmillan' can open more than a few doors if you know when and where to give it. Of course, you'd know all about that already, eh, Harry? Slytherin cunning, they say, but don't be fooled—Hufflepuffs can do it too!"

Harry generally refrained from using his name to open doors, although he did understand that he could. He always worried that if he tried, it wouldn't work and he'd look like a berk for expecting something because he was Harry Potter – although people seemed happy enough to give him all sorts of things without him asking, anyway.

Algie took out his pocket watch and frowned.

"And look at the time! We've nearly gone and missed our bloody Portkey!" he exclaimed. "Grab a hold, boys—under a minute now!" He offered the metal ring to Harry and Ernie, who grabbed hold tightly.

Harry hated the anticipation before a Portkey, those few moments of waiting before that eldritch hand yanked him into the aether and spat him out miles away. After a few seconds of waiting, Harry was sucked into the vortex and sent spinning before he stumbled out at the other end inside a room eerily similar to the one he'd just left – only with different portraits and no fireplace.

"All in one piece?" asked Algernon. "Nobody's left any bits back in Cornwall? Wonderful! Now, if I've got this right, we leave here and go right for our seats—no need to bother with the ticket office. I bet the poor ticket witch is busier than ever today anyway." Algie checked his pockets for the tickets, and then frowned when he couldn't find them. "Ernest, lad, did I give you the tickets this morning? Or… well, I do hope I didn't forget them or we won't know where to sit!"

"I've got them here, Dad," said Ernie. He pulled three tickets out of his robe pocket. "We're in the VIP box on the east centre stand, look." He passed the tickets to his father, who looked them over and nodded.

"Righto—this way then, boys!" said Algie. He left the room and set off through the stadium building in search of a particular staircase.

The interior of the stadium's ground floor held a number of little kiosks sat into the walls where merchants sold various kinds of things, from team merchandise to drinks and snacks. None of it interested Harry, except when he spotted a kiosk where a fat little wizard was selling the kind of tat one could usually find at a sports match – including omnioculars, which Harry had been wanting to buy since he'd borrowed Draco's.

"Er—hang on a minute, Algie," said Harry. "I just wanted to grab a pair of omnioculars, if that's alright."

Algie stopped walking forwards and glanced around at the kiosks.

"Well, those are decent enough prices, I suppose," he said. "Go on then. We've got a bit of time before the match anyway."

"Nice one," said Harry. He moved forward and grabbed three pairs of omnioculars from the kiosk wizard and handed one each to Algie and Ernie. "I grabbed enough for all of us."

"Thanks, Harry," said Ernie. "I should have remembered to bring mine from home, really, but they're all the way back in Hogsmeade…"

"It's fine," said Harry. The omnioculars weren't that expensive, anyway – thirty Galleons for all three, which was a bit steep, but as Harry hadn't had to spend any money since Christmas, it wasn't too bad.

Everyone sorted with a pair of omnioculars, Algie set off again. He stopped at a revolving spiral staircase almost like a Muggle escalator, but just a set of steps suspended in the air without any sort of frame or support. Algie waited for Harry and Ernie to step on, then joined them on their ascent to the VIP box.

Harry stuck to the middle of the staircase. It wasn't that he didn't like heights – it would have been impossible to fly if that had been the case – but more that while on a broom, he had total control over everything, and a firm grip on the shaft. The staircase, while pretty, moved all on its own and without any input from Harry and just looked unsafe. Eventually the revolving spiral stair reached the VIP box and stopped moving just long enough for all three of them to get off.

The VIP box atop the centre stand had perhaps a dozen, very plush and comfortable-looking, seats scattered throughout it, along with a covered top and sides to keep the wind away. A few tables stood at the very back of the box with a selection of different foods. Some of the seats were filled already, but Harry didn't recognise anyone sat in them – except for one wizard near to the entrance.

"Theodore!" said Harry. "I didn't know you'd be here!"

The thin, pale boy turned in his seat, and smiled widely when he saw Harry.

"My father got us tickets right through to the final," said Theodore. "It's good to see you, Harry." He turned towards Ernie and his father and nodded to them. "Macmillan. Mr Macmillan."

"We'll just go grab our seats then," said Algie softly, "while you chat with your friend, eh? Come on, Ernest…" He ushered Ernie away, leaving Harry space to walk over to see Theodore.

"Dad, this is Harry—Harry Potter," said Theodore to the elderly, dark-robed man sat next to him. "Harry, this is my father, Sinistrus Nott."

Sinistrus Nott turned slowly in his seat towards Harry. He smiled a sharp and pointed, toothy smile complete with beady little eyes, and Harry thought – rather uncharitably, since he could see the resemblance to Theodore – that the old wizard looked like a thin little rat dressed up in robes.

"Good morning, Mr Potter," said Sinistrus. He nodded slightly. "My son speaks highly of you. I see you know how to pick your friends well," he said with a glance towards Ernie and his father. "August company indeed."

"Dad," said Theodore, quietly but just about loud enough for Harry to hear.

Sinistrus continued without acknowledging Theodore.

"I say, you do look like your grandmother," said Sinistrus. "I knew her, although not well—we were never friends. But you have her look about you. I suppose good blood will out in the end."

"Dad," said Theodore again, but Sinistrus continued to ignore him.

"Er, yeah," said Harry. His mind went back to the newspaper articles he'd read about the Death Eater trials after the war, and he found that he could easily believe Sinistrus had managed to wriggle his way out of punishment. He didn't quite know what to say, so he settled on something bland and uncontroversial. "People say I look my father, but no one has ever mentioned my grandmother, not really. I'll have to find some pictures."

Sinistrus opened his mouth to say something more, but Theodore interrupted him.

"It's great to see you, Harry," said Theodore. "I think your letter said you were going to the final, too? In the Minister's Box? We've got seats there as well; did you want to meet up for a bit before? I can send an owl, if you like, with the details."

Harry recognised the brush off. He didn't feel insulted – most likely, Theodore wanted to avoid his father saying anything else embarrassing and it had nothing to do with Harry himself – so he went along with it.

"Definitely," said Harry. "I'll be with Ernie, but that's alright, isn't it?" His friend groups usually never mixed, with the exception of Tracey and Millicent who were present in both, but he didn't think it would be a total disaster for Ernie and Theodore to hang out together for just one day.

Theodore nodded.

"Macmillan is fine," said Theodore. "I'll owl you the details. See you soon and enjoy the match, Harry."

"It was nice to meet you, Mr Nott," Harry said, although it was a lie. "Have a nice day," he said, and turned to leave. He re-joined Ernie and Algie and got himself comfortable in his seat.

"Have a nice chat with your friend?" asked Algie quietly.

Harry shrugged.

"It was nice to see Theodore," said Harry, mindful of his volume, "but his dad was a bit…"

Algie remained silent for a few moments before speaking in almost a whisper.

"I don't know how much you've heard," Algie said, "and I don't want to be casting aspersions—not my place—but, well, the chat about town regarding old Sinistrus has never been particularly nice. Even my own father—well, that's neither here nor there." Algie paused. "And there was all that business with You-Know-Who. Now, he was never charged or convicted, but cauldrons won't boil without fire, as they say…"

"Dad, you can't just go around accusing someone's dad of—of—of…" said Ernie, but Harry interrupted him.

"I read about that," murmured Harry. "I did a bit of research on… erm, everything like that, last year. But Theodore has always been nice to me, we've been quite good mates… so… I mean, I do know what people have said—and not just about Mr Nott—but…"

Algie nodded.

"Well, as long as you know, lad," he said. "And they do say, 'the son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father.'" Harry thought he recognised the quote, but not from where. "You're a bright lad: I'm sure you can pick your friends well. You chose my son, after all! Hah!"

"Dad," mumbled Ernie.

Conversation drifted away from Harry's friends' parents and their dubious pasts and onto topics more directly related to Quidditch and the World Cup, for which Harry was very grateful. In almost no time at all, the match had begun, and there was no more time for talking about anything anyway.

Harry got good use out of his new omnioculars, and at the end of the match – despite a poor performance from their Seeker – got to watch as Ireland passed through to the semis, and Canada got sent home. Instead of returning directly to the summer house in Cornwall, Algie stopped at the pub nestled in the ground floor of the stadium for 'just a little tipple'.

"Don't tell your mother!" he warned Ernie, as he allowed Harry and Ernie a half-pint of frothy beer each in celebration.

Quite how Harry expected him to keep it from Mairi was another thing altogether, as by the time their Portkey home had activated, Algie had drunk at least seven pints of beer and had nearly as much spilled on him by the other celebrants.

"It's coming home, boys, it's coming home!" crooned Algie once the Portkey spat them out in the Travel Room back at the summer house. "It's coming home!"

The run up to the World Cup final felt tortuous to Harry. He caught the semis on the Wireless, of course – Harry, Ernie, and Algie gathered around one of the Macmillans' Wirelesses in one of the niche rooms inside the summer house to listen to each of the matches. Ireland had just scraped through, in Harry's opinion, carried by their strong teamwork even though France had the better Seeker. Bulgaria had a much more clear-cut win against the Australians, so much so that Harry thought they'd be reeling from embarrassment for the next century at least. Although Krum could and often did carry the Bulgarian team, the Australians hadn't managed to get a single goal past the Bulgarian Keeper and had ended the match on a dismal score of zero to two hundred and ninety points. Harry wanted to grab an omniocular recording of the match just to see how a professional, world-class Quidditch team could mess up so badly, but he'd been warned by Algie that scalpers would have sent the prices sky-high so he probably wouldn't bother.

He had the money, but it seemed wasteful even so. Especially since there'd be an analysis written up in Quidditch Today.

On the morning of the eighteenth, the day of the Cup final, Blippy woke Harry up much earlier than usual for breakfast and advised that he should wear his muggle clothes for the day, but to bring a change of robes as well. He and Ernie ended up sat in the Travel Room – again – waiting for Algie to get back from some errand.

"The stadium is technically next to a muggle campsite," explained Ernie after breakfast, "and we've got to take a public Portkey in. Ours is half-way across the bloody county! Not sure why they did it that way, really, but they did. 'Course, they've sorted it all out—the muggles are unaware and the whole place has been booked by the Ministry, so there aren't any muggle guests—but we've still got to wear muggle clothes on the way there. Technically." He glanced around to check neither of his parents were listening. "I did ask Dad if we could just not bother, but he said you've got to follow all the little rules so if you've got to break a big one, people are much more forgiving," he added in a whisper.

"Er—that makes sense, actually," said Harry. "Not the bit about the stadium—sounds like a monumentally stupid idea to stick the biggest gathering of wizards in Europe on a muggle campsite—but the other bit. We're staying the night, as well? I think that's what your dad said, wasn't it?"

Ernie nodded.

"Yeah, I've got the tent in my pocket. Don't worry—it's a really nice tent. From the outside it's nothing special but, well, you'll see. Between you and me," he said, and again checked around that neither of his parents was in the room, "I think Dad just wants to get absolutely bladdered after the game—whether or not Ireland wins—and doesn't want to get a row from Mum. 'Camping is part of the experience, Mairi!' is what he said to Mum, but you know how he is."

Harry laughed. From what he'd learned of Algie, that sounded about right.

Algie materialised into the room with a loud crack.

"Ah, great!" he said when he saw the two boys. "Now, I've only gone and done it again," he said with a big, broad smile. "Got us a private Portkey to the campsite! I may have had to mention I was escorting you to the Minister's Box today, Harry—but you know how it goes, don't you? The Portkey office was quick to fall over itself to make it happen, no worries there. Now, we've still got to go through registration when we arrive—international agreements and all that—but at least we don't have to go traipsing all over Cornwall on our way, eh?"

"Well, I suppose that's alright," said Harry. He didn't much feel like walking halfway across Cornwall just to get a Portkey with some other wizards, not when there was an alternative, but he did wish Algie had been able to do it without mentioning Harry's name. It just felt a bit dirty.

"Now then, where's your mum got to?" said Algie to Ernie. "I was hoping for a nice send-off…"

"She's in the gardens teaching the tulips how to sing," said Ernie. "Said she needs some extra time with the sopranos because Mrs Happenstance is coming over while we're gone, remember?"

"Ah, yes, well," said Algie, "wouldn't want to interrupt that, would we? And we've got no time for a look anyway—the Portkey office set the departure sooner than I'd have liked! Well, nothing for it, I suppose; we'll have to get on without her." He shrugged. "Ernest, got the tent? Harry, you've got a change of robes? Brilliant! Now, I've had Blippy pack us up some things for breakfast tomorrow so if we all chip in, I'm sure we can cook something up!" He took a look at his pocket watch and then offered the Portkey to Harry and Ernie.

"Grab on, lads—almost time to go. We'll be dropped in public arrivals area, no changing that, but we should beat the queues since the public Portkeys aren't meant to leave for a little while yet," continued Algie. "Just have to wait a few more—"

Algie didn't get to finish his sentence, as the Portkey activated and pulled all three of them away and dropped them out at the campsite.

Having gotten used to Portkey travel by then, Harry managed not to stumble on the exit, and once he was sure he was completely present and accounted for, took a look around. A small queue had formed a few feet away, filled with wizards and witches in – technically, if one were to be generous – muggle clothing where a single man with a clipboard stood at a little kiosk signing people in.

Empty fields sat around them, with a little bit of woodland behind.

"Where are we?" asked Harry. "It doesn't look like we've gone that far."

"Dartmoor," supplied Algie immediately. "So, we haven't gone too far—just popped over to Devon, that's all. Nice bit of deserted moor, I suppose, but the Ministry definitely missed a trick by not siting the new stadium up in the Highlands! Much more secure. Well, too late for that now. Let's go get registered."

He struck off towards the kiosk in order to join the queue, and Harry followed along with Ernie. When they arrived, they saw that some of the wizards seemingly hadn't bothered to dress like muggles at all.

"Right, boys, mustn't mention magic," said Algie in a whisper as they joined the queue. "I've even got that silly Muggle money they use—those little bits of paper—so we're going to go in totally stealth. Good bit of fun, eh?"

"I suppose," said Ernie. "Feel a bit silly dressed like this, though."

Harry grinned. It wasn't often his wizard friends felt like how Harry had felt when he'd learned that he was meant to spend the rest of his life wearing robes, and he enjoyed it. The sight of Ernie in shorts and a t-shirt was admittedly a little bit strange, just because of the context, but unlike some of the others in the queue, Ernie's clothes were at least appropriate.

Not so for the wizard in a feather boa and fishnet stockings in front of them.

"Muggles do wear these, Andrew," Harry could hear his companion – a witch dressed in a smart, if a little outdated, sundress – say to him quietly, "but not out and about like this. The men usually wear trousers."

"I did try a pair on," said the wizard, "but they felt a bit claustrophobic, so I asked for something a little less restrictive. I thought about getting one of the 'tee shirts' as well, but the weather is so nice I thought I needn't bother. The witch in the shop said I looked nice, anyway."

"Well, you do have the legs for them, I suppose," agreed his companion, "but I do wish you'd have asked me to come along while you were shopping. I did that course for work, remember, and maybe we could have got you something a little less… like that…"

"Well, at least you didn't turn up dressed like that," said Harry to Ernie with a snigger.

The oddly-dressed wizard wasn't alone in his inappropriate choice of attire, however, as with only a quick glance around at the other wizards and witches on the site he could spot maybe half a dozen others dressed in absurd examples of muggle clothing. Harry felt fortunate that Ernie and Algie had come dressed properly, although he would concede that even if they hadn't, they wouldn't have stood out.

By the time the queue reached Andrew and his friend, the wizard had unhooked a money pouch from the underpants that served as his trousers to offer to the confused man at the kiosk.

"I'll get this," said Andrew, "since you paid for the tent, after all… Hang on, let me just…" He stuck his hand into the money pouch, and then the rest of his arm up to his elbow, and finally his upper arm until his shoulder. "I've got everything in here and that silly muggle money… sorry, just a second…"

"Is this some sort of joke?" asked the man at the kiosk. "Sir, I won't—"

Immediately, and with a loud crack, a robed wizard appeared behind the muggle, wand in hand.

"Obliviate!" said the wizard, and the man's face went slack, and his gaze drifted away. He was a muggle, Harry realised. "This man has just paid you," said the wizard to the Muggle, "and you've seen nothing strange." To Andrew, he added, "Pay the man and get going, sir."

The wizard had finally found his money, and he placed two crisp Muggle notes onto the table and walked away with his friend. The muggle scratched down something onto a piece of paper and then stared vacantly ahead, eyes worryingly unfocused.

When Algie stepped forward, the wizard recognised him.

"Macmillan! Didn't know you were in today. Get in okay?"

"Proudfoot!" said Algie. "How the devil are you? If I'd known you'd been assigned gate duty I'd have brought you that drink!"

"Oh, aye," said Proudfoot, and after taking a closer look, Harry recognised him as one of the Aurors who'd escorted Hagrid to Azkaban. "Not so bad—getting a lot of practise with memory charms this week, let me tell you. This one here needs about ten of them a day to keep him calm."

"Is that safe?" asked Harry. "It sounds… well…" He glanced at the muggle, who was still staring unfocusedly into the distance.

"We stick to the legal limits," said Proudfoot with a shrug. "'Course, it helps that this one's none too smart. Over at the other site the Obliviators are having to jump through hoops to keep the owner in the dark. Don't envy them one bit. This one's easy, though. Had to step in just then since he's already seen enough this morning, but we should be good for a while."

"Will you get to watch the match this afternoon?" asked Algie. "Or are you stuck at the gate?"

"Stuck at the gate," said Proudfoot. "Rotten bad luck, that, but someone has to watch it I suppose…" He shrugged. "Biggest gathering of wizards in Britain since, well, I don't even know, though. Can't let it go unwatched… I get off after the match, at least. Anyway, stick your money down and go find a spot in the west field." He turned to the muggle. "Write down Macmillan in the west field, Mr Roberts. Have to keep this queue moving…"

"See you later, Proudfoot," said Algie after dropping his money down. "Have a good shift! Come on boys, let's not hold up the line any longer, eh?"

Algie led the two boys through the fields, and past a dazzling array of 'tents', most of which looked like literally everything other than a tent. Harry saw miniature castles, little houses, and one particularly impressive replica of the Taj Mahal scattered throughout the fields which made up the campsite. Harry spotted a few wizards whose tents did resemble a muggle tent in the vaguest of senses, but which had upper storeys, some even with towers and balconies. He didn't think he could see a single tent that would look okay in a muggle campsite, and many of the wizards had brought their pets with them – a dazzling array of creatures, many which Harry had never seen before. Children ran and flew on little brooms about the tents while parents kept an eye on them from afar.

"No wonder the owner needs to be memory charmed so much," said Harry. "This is all a bit mental."

"Our tent is a bit more reserved than some of these," said Algie. "Saved most of the flair for the inside, you know. Can't be too showy. Although… you can't blame most of them for showing off just a little bit. It's not often this many wizards from all over the world gather in one place, so it's nice to show off just a wee bit…"

"I suppose that's fair," said Ernie.

"That does make sense," agreed Harry, "although I think some of them maybe could have done without the animals…" He glanced around. "And the brooms, and the wands…"

Algie kept walking through fields until he reached their spot. Harry took the opportunity to look at all the different wizards and their tents along the way. He spotted a large contingent from the Salem Witches' Institute, along with a few spots dedicated to somewhere called Ilvermorny, according to the many flags adorning their tents.

"What's Ilvermorny?" Harry asked.

"School in America," said Ernie. "There's a few, but Ilvermorny is like their Hogwarts, I think. The best one."

"Right," said Harry. "What's, er… I don't know how to say that," he said, but he pointed towards a large banner above a set of brightly coloured tents.

"Uagadou," said Ernie. "From Uganda, probably. That's where the school is anyway. I've heard they don't use wands, though. Can you imagine?"

"Weird," said Harry.

"I think this is where we're at," said Algie, coming to a sudden stop at an empty pitch. "Ernest, you've got the tent in your pocket, aye?"

"Yeah, hang on—let me get it…" said Ernie. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a small cube, which he handed over to Algie.

"Just the ticket!" said Algie. He tossed the cube onto the ground and pointed his wand at it. Immediately it began to swell and unfold itself into a stilted, circular hut with a pointed roof. Once the 'tent' had fully unfolded, water began to pour out of it to form a little pond, and a small bridge extended to meet the edge of the pitch, leading into the hut's doorway.

Harry stifled a laugh. Algie certainly had a unique definition for 'reserved'.

"It's called a crannog," said Algie, gesturing to the 'tent'. "Very traditional Celtic dwelling, you see. Thought it would be a good bit of fun." He paused. "You don't think it's a bit much, do you? I wasn't sure, but Mairi said…"

"I think it's fine, Dad," said Ernie. "I mean, there are much flashier tents around, so it's not, you know." He gestured around them at the castles and the palaces.

"I just thought that when you said yours was a bit more reserved, it would look more like a Muggle tent, that's all," said Harry. "But most of these other tents are loads worse, so I wouldn't worry."

"Wonderful!" said Algie. "Right, get on inside and pick your bedrooms out, and we'll get on from there…"

The inside of the hut sported several full-sized rooms dedicated to different purposes, including a fully functional bathroom and kitchen with a wood-fired oven and stove. The tent had five different bedrooms to choose from along with a sitting room and dining room.

"We arranged to meet up with Theodore around now," said Harry to Ernie, "remember? Do you think your dad would mind if…"

Ernie shook his head.

"Nah. He'll want to stop by the pub first anyway, and we've got a few hours 'til the match starts," said Ernie. He grabbed the attention of Algie, who was rummaging around in a trunk he'd taken out of his pocket. "Dad, we're going to go meet Harry's mate. We'll see you back here later, okay?"

"Yes, yes," said Algie. He didn't look up from the trunk. "Take your wands and if I'm not here when you get back, find me at the pub. There's good lads." He paused. "And don't tell your mum!"

"We can probably stick our robes on now, too," said Ernie. "And I've got to grab my wand anyway, it's in my bag."

"Yeah, alright," said Harry. He didn't mind staying in muggle clothes, but he supposed that it was easier to fit his wand in a robe pocket than it would be in his shorts. The boys got changed quickly, grabbed their wands, and left in search of Theodore.

"Where'd he say to meet him, anyway?" asked Ernie once they were on their way.

"There's a bit where there's loads of shops and stalls and stuff. It's near the pub as well, so… He said to meet him there," said Harry, "although I'm not quite sure where that is…"

"I think it's this way," said Ernie, pointing. "Although, maybe it's over there… Shouldn't there be a sign somewhere?"

The two boys wandered around the site adjacent to the stadium until eventually, they found what they had been looking for. A few dozen stalls and kiosks clustered around an open-air pub, where a little pathway led off towards the stadium. Some of the stalls were still devoted to selling merchandise from the teams which had already been knocked out – Harry could see more than a couple decked out in Ugandan colours, with flags and banners and all sorts of other things – but most of them had switched to offering up Ireland and Bulgaria-related souvenirs.

"What d'you think about me grabbing an Irish team banner?" asked Ernie. "I thought it might be nice to show some support, you know. And I could keep it in my room as a nice little keepsake, you know."

"Er, yeah, if you want one," said Harry distractedly as he scanned through the crowds for Theodore. "The one with the dancing leprechauns looked pretty cool, I thought."

"That's what I thought, too," said Ernie. "I'm going to get one. Want me to grab you anything while I'm there? I can meet you back at the pub, so don't worry about being late with Nott."

"Nah," said Harry, although after a moment, he reconsidered. It would be nice to have some sort of little reminder of the Cup final. "Actually, grab me two of the team posters—you know the ones with all the teams that move about? One for Bulgaria and one for Ireland. Thanks, mate." Harry thought that Dudley would enjoy them, at least a little.

While Ernie was off getting them both some souvenirs, Harry went in search of Theodore. It wasn't easy to find a single young wizard in the crowd, but Harry eventually found Theodore stood against a wooden post towards the edge of the open-air pub area. The thin boy had grown taller over the summer, which Harry hadn't noticed at the last match since he'd been sat down, and Harry rather uncharitably thought he looked quite like a drainpipe, dressed in his dark robes.

"Theodore!" Harry called out. "Alright, mate?"

Theodore gave Harry a little wave and walked over towards him.

"Good to see you," Theodore said when he reached Harry. "Er, look—sorry about my father the other day. He can be a bit… he's a bit of a… I mean, he's really old and…"

Harry shrugged.

"It's alright. You should hear some of the things my uncle comes out with," said Harry in an attempt to keep it all light – although, despite Vernon's many faults, he'd never been accused of joining a paramilitary terrorist organisation hell-bent on genocide, so Harry felt unsure that the comparison was fair. "How'd you get Minister's Box tickets, anyway?"

"My father owled the Minister to ask for them," said Theodore. He shrugged.

The Ministry seemed to run on favours and backhanders, so much so Harry wondered how it ever managed to get its actual work of governing done.

"Anyway, it's good Macmillan isn't here for the moment, since I needed to tell you… Draco's going to be at the match today, in the Minister's Box as well." Theodore paused. "He's been a bit … weird … this summer, and I've not been allowed over to the Manor this year. It's not like I've been itching to go, obviously, but usually… anyway. Whenever he's come to mine, he's been—I don't know how to explain it, but…"

"What, like, stranger than he usually is?" asked Harry. Draco could be petulant, high-strung, and generally quite painful to deal with on his good days, in Harry's experience, so quite what Theodore meant, he couldn't say.

Theodore shrugged.

"Yeah. I don't know. You might notice later. But look, Macmillan's on his way over. Just … be aware, okay?" said Theodore.

"Yeah, alright," said Harry. "Thanks for the warning." Harry knew that Theodore had known Draco for a long time – since they were very young, and they even lived in the same village – so Harry thought that he would be used to the boy's ups and downs and his odd moods. For Theodore to actively tell Harry about it must have meant something.

Quite what that something was, Harry didn't know, but it felt important.

"I got you the posters," said Ernie when he reached the two boys. He had an animated Irish team banner draped around his shoulders. Ernie handed Harry two small tubes, then nodded towards Theodore. "Hello. Good to see you again. Those are shrunk, by the way," he added to Harry. "When you open the tubes they'll pop back to full size, so don't worry about that."

"Nice one, mate," said Harry. "How much?"

Ernie shrugged.

"Don't mind about that," he said. "Anyway, what do you both want to do up to the match? We've got a couple of hours until we start, I think."

"I don't have to find my father until just before the match," said Theodore, "so I don't mind, really."

In the end they decided to wander around the campsites to have a look at all the foreign wizards and their encampments. It was all a great education for Harry, who had only left the country once, and he thought that it was good for Theodore too, whose father apparently didn't like to travel. They'd managed to wander quite far when the loud bells that signalled it was nearly time for the match rang out all across the site.

"Better get back," said Harry. "Don't want to be late for this!"

The three boys wove their way through the thronging crowds in an attempt to make their way back to the stadium gate.

"I hope we're not too late," said Theodore. "I've got to meet my father… we're sitting with the Malfoys and he'd hate it if I was late…"

"Oh, rough luck," said Ernie. "Well, I'm sure we'll get to the gate in time… and since we're in the Minister's Box, surely there's a separate queue? They won't have us just, you know, waiting..."

"What about your dad?" asked Harry as they squeezed through a particularly dense collection of Canadian wizards. "Don't we have to meet him before we go in?"

"Dad won't leave the pub until last bell," said Ernie. "We've got time yet!"

They eventually managed to find their way back to the stadium gate, and Theodore left Harry and Ernie to go and find his father. The open-air pub had mostly emptied out by that point, so it was easy enough to spot Algie sat at the bar with his last pint in hand.

"Dad! Come on, we've got to get going!" shouted Ernie.

"Well, that's what I was thinking!" said Algie. "I was only waiting for the pair of you, wasn't I?" he said when he reached Harry and Ernie. "We've got a bit of a walk yet so I brought one for the road," he said, and gestured to the half-full pint of beer in his hand. "It's this way, boys!"

He struck off through the stadium gate and down a pathway which cut through a light woodland, leaving Harry and Ernie to follow him. They joined the thick mass of wizards and witches as they all made their way to the brand new, purpose built Quidditch stadium.

"Why'd they build a new stadium in the middle of nowhere, anyway?" asked Harry. "Couldn't they have used one of the ones already built?"

"Nah," said Ernie. "There's going to be a hundred thousand wizards at this match! Way too many for any of the other stadiums, even with expansion charms! And the logistics… Can you imagine? A hundred thousand wizards, all in one place! That's, like, maybe four times as many wizards as even live in Britain and Ireland put together!"

Looking around at the seemingly endless stream of wizards, Harry could easily believe it. The last time Harry had seen many wizards together was in Barcelona, and the numbers there had fallen far, far short of the numbers he'd seen just at the campsite.

"Seems a shame to have only had three matches in it, though," Harry said. He knew that most of the other matches had been played at other sites throughout Britain and Ireland – part of the joint bid from the four nations comprising the Ministry's boundaries – but that the semi-finals and the final itself had been reserved for the new stadium. "I wonder what they'll use it for after this."

"Maybe nothing," said Ernie. "Dad said they might even tear it down after. But I do agree that would be a shame—there was talk on the Wireless about maybe using it for a European Cup, since it's there already…"

"That would be really cool," said Harry. A regular, international Quidditch league or tournament sounded like a great idea to occupy time between the World Cups.

"Still there, boys?" shouted Algie from a little bit ahead of them. "Follow me, this way!"

At the entrance to the stadium – which was a towering construction of floating towers, tiered seating, and staircases that went seemingly nowhere arranged around the Quidditch pitch – stood three gates for diverting fans to different sections of the stadium. Algie led Harry and Ernie away from all of these and towards a discreet little entrance guarded by two black-robed wizards.

"Show the nice men our tickets, would you, Harry, lad?" said Algie when they reached the pair of wizards.

"Oh, er… Hang on…" said Harry. He'd remembered to bring the tickets, of course—they were essential and he'd checked multiple times before they left—but after being asked to show them, he thought he might have left them in his muggle shorts. "The pockets are expanded, sorry, I do have them…" He eventually found them and presented them to the two silent wizards at the gate.

"Very good, sir. Please, through the gate and wait for the stairs to come to a complete stop before ascending," directed the leftmost wizard.

"And do enjoy your time in the Minister's Box," added the second wizard.

"I do think that I shall," said Algie. "Oh, take this, would you?" He pressed his empty pint glass into the wizard's hands, and then ducked through the gate. "This way, lads!"

Once inside the stadium, the three of them ascended the rotating staircase towards the Minister's Box, which was located at the top of the tallest tower in the entire stadium. The private staircase to the Box didn't intersect any of the others, instead acting as a direct route to the top.

"And here we are!" declared Algie once they'd reached the top. The staircase opened out into a short landing, at the end of which was a set of double doors. The doors opened of their own accord when Algie stepped towards them to reveal the Minister's Box.

Perhaps a dozen wizards and witches had already taken their seats, Theodore – along with his father and all three Malfoys – included. The rest of the seats sat empty. A set of seats in the middle of the box had very clearly been reserved for the Minister and his own personal guests, as they were larger, more comfortable-looking, and set slightly above all the others. With a quick look at his tickets, Harry ascertained that their seats were just to the right of the Minister's, and with a good view of the pitch. The Box had clearly been insulated against the sounds of the stadium since Harry could only just hear the cheering crowds outside. It was enough to provide a little bit of ambience, but not so much that it was at all overpowering.

"We're just past the ones in the middle," said Harry. "The three seats just after the big ones."

"Wonderful, wonderful," said Algie. He straightened up and seemed to get a little less merry once he set eyes on the Malfoys and Sinistrus Nott. "Let's get seated, shall we?"

The Minister's Box had wide gaps between each row of seats, so Harry felt glad at least that they didn't have to squeeze past anyone else – especially the Malfoys – on the way to their own seats. They did still have to pass the Malfoys and the Notts, but an easy walk past was better in Harry's estimation than an awkward shuffle.

Harry knew he would have to say something to Draco on the way past, since it was just polite and he couldn't leave the boy out while talking to Theodore even if he could have done without it, but he felt quite unsure about saying anything to the elder Malfoy. Harry still hadn't decided what to believe about Lucius Malfoy and his activities during the war and preferred to believe he was and wasn't a Death Eater simultaneously.

It was just easier that way.

Of course, before learning of Voldemort's continued existence and of the prophecy in which the mad wizard believed wholeheartedly, that question had been entirely academic – whereas now it seemed anything but.

Algie took the matter out of Harry's hands when he stopped to greet Lucius on his way past.

"Good afternoon, Lucius, Narcissa," he said. "Fine day for it." Algie nodded towards Sinistrus. "Sinistrus."

At Algie's greeting, Lucius near jumped out of his seat, at least to Harry's eye. He recovered quickly, but Harry felt sure about what he'd seen. Immediately a little sneer graced his face, although the dark pits around his eyes took away some of the gravitas. Sinistrus gave a slight incline of his head in acknowledgement, but nothing more.

"Algernon," Lucius said eventually, his voice a little hoarse. "How … good … to see you. With young Potter, as well. Draco, say hello to your friend."

"Hello, Harry," said Draco. "I didn't know you'd be here today."

"Er, yeah," said Harry. "Got the tickets from the Minister's office, but… I suppose that's where everyone here today got them, isn't it?" He nodded towards Theodore as well, although didn't say anything since they'd already spoken. "Everyone looking forward to the match?"

"Quite," said Lucius.

"Haven't seen you around the Atrium much this summer," observed Algernon. "I almost missed you. What the devil has got into you, eh? Good old Arthur's little bit of legislation have you spooked?"

Harry knew neither Lucius Malfoy nor Algie actually worked at the Ministry – rather, they hung around lurking like rich men with their fingers in many pies did, always there to make a suggestion to the right wizard, always there with a well-timed favour or donation... all done with the understanding there would be something in return at an unspecified later date. It wasn't how Harry wanted to spend his days, but he supposed everyone needed a hobby.

A look of abject terror graced Lucius Malfoy's face at Algie's little jibe, but it was gone within the second. If Harry hadn't been watching, he would have missed it. Lucius quite clearly searched for something to say, but ended up being saved by his wife, Narcissa.

"I'm afraid that I—rather selfishly—kept my husband at home. It is so important to focus on family time. The Ministry and its silly games can wait."

Narcissa smiled, and although she was beautiful – perhaps one of the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen – Narcissa had a look about her that marred her fine features. It was almost as if her disdain for her surroundings, and her general demeanour had found a physical presence on her face such that not even her smile could get rid of it.

Lucius gave a little cough.

"Quite. Family is so very important," said Lucius. "And with Draco away at school for most of the year, the summer is even more important than usual. Next to the joy of fatherhood, the Ministry is … irrelevant." He glanced briefly at Draco.

Draco frowned at that, but as with his father, his face went blank soon after Harry noticed it. Instead, he nodded along at the elder Malfoy's words, but Harry knew Draco well enough to realise that he was frustrated and upset. Harry felt that something was going on with the Malfoys – something unusual even for them – but he couldn't put his finger on what, exactly. He just didn't know enough about the family and how they usually acted to do anything other than guess. Draco wasn't nearly as outspoken and obnoxious as usual, but Harry supposed that could just be how he behaved in front of his parents.

He wondered if maybe Theodore had a bit more insight, but perhaps not given his words earlier that day.

"It was so lovely to see you today, Algernon," continued Narcissa. "Would you give my regards to your dear wife? Mary, was it?"

Harry recognised the brush-off but couldn't say he didn't welcome it. Even a rude dismissal was better than any more time stood talking with the Malfoys.

"Mairi," corrected Algie. "I'll relay your kind words, Narcissa." He gave a little bow, and then nodded towards Lucius and Sinistrus. "Lucius, Sinistrus," he said, and turned to leave. Ernie mumbled a goodbye and followed after his father.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Mr Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy," said Harry. "And it was good to see you again, Mr Nott. Theodore, Draco, I'll see you on the train?"

"Definitely," said Theodore.

"Of course," said Draco.

Grateful to have that encounter over and done with, Harry sat down in his seat next to Ernie.

"That Malfoy is a slippery fellow," murmured Algie. "Great galloping Goliath, I could do with a drink after that!" He sank back in his seat.

"I think there's elf service at the back of the Box," said Ernie. "Do you want me to…?"

"No, no," said Algie. "Best keep my wits about me for the match. There'll be plenty of time later for celebration—or commiseration, depending on how it goes!"

Harry settled in to watch the pre-match show involving the mascots from each of the teams – leprechauns from the Irish team, and something called Veela from the Bulgarians, which as far as Harry could tell, were just extraordinarily beautiful women.

They did seem to have a rather hypnotic way of dancing about them, which seemed to captivate most of the men in the Box, although not all of them – Harry found himself able to look away, and he could see that both Lucius and Sinistrus seemed unmoved by it. All the other men in the Box – his friends and even Algie – seemed almost physically unable to do anything other than watch the Veela dance.

Towards the end of the pre-match show the Minister entered the Box, along with his entourage, chattering loudly.

"Ah, and of course, here we have Harry Potter," he almost shouted slowly to the swarthy man dressed in gold-trimmed, black robes next to him once they'd reached their seats. "Potter, say hello to the Bulgarian Minister for Magic, Mr Oblenks or Oblonks or, well—he has some sort of title in his own language but I'd murder the pronunciation, so that'll have to do. Doesn't speak a lick of English, anyway," said Fudge. "So just smile and wave, there's a good lad."

Put on the spot, Harry wasn't sure what to say. In the end he stood up and offered his hand to the Bulgarian Minister for a handshake.

"Really pleased to meet you, sir," said Harry.

"My name is Oblansk," corrected the man in near-perfect English. "It is quite a treat to meet you, young man. Your story is known far and wide!"

"You speak English?" spluttered Fudge. "But I've been—you never said—I've been miming all bloody day!"

Harry stifled a laugh.

Oblansk shrugged.

"It was very funny."

Fudge stammered over a series of hasty apologies, leaving Harry free to watch the start of the match. He settled in and got great use of his omnioculars, especially the in-built recording function, and had great fun tracking the various plays made by each of the teams. Ireland dominated, keeping control of the Quaffle for more or less the whole match.

"Krum's going to catch the Snitch!" Harry declared. "Look, it's there and he's going for it!"

In the end, Krum caught the Snitch even with the Irish Seeker – Lynch – tailing him closely. The stadium exploded into chorus of cheers, and fireworks went off in the sky above the pitch.

"We fucking did it!" screamed Algie as he jumped out of his seat. "It's coming home, boys! It's really coming home…"

Harry grinned; the atmosphere was infectious. He was swept out of the stadium in a mass of cheering fans, and the celebrations went on right into the morning.