A Gambling Wasp and Percy's future...husband

Once getting their names ticked off by the list and directed to their place on the campsite, they said goodbye to the Diggorys', thankfully, before walking further along to their place. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on, they passed a tent with three floors and several turrets; a short way beyond that was a tent with a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

"Always the same," Mr Weasley said, smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us."

They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and there was a space with a small sign hammered into the ground that read 'weezly'.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" Mr Weasley said happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there; we're as close as we could be."

"They couldn't even spell our name properly," Fred muttered.

Hermione placed her bag on the floor and rummaged through it before she took out a red pen. She crossed out 'weezly' and wrote underneath, 'WEASLEY.'

"Right," Mr Weasley said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, so we'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult. . . . Muggles do it all the time. . . . Here, Ila, where do you reckon we should start?"

Ila had never been camping before; the Varmas weren't really the camping 'type.' Ridhi auntie was mainly scared of beasts that could kill them in the middle of the night. Aadit was scared of racists killing them in the middle of the night. However, she and Hermione managed to figure out where the poles and the pegs were placed. Mr Weasley did his best to help but ended up getting in the way of most things, at one point, standing on the actual tent itself. The others were no use either. They were too busy lounging around, complaining they were tired to help. Once the tent erupted, they stepped back to appreciate their hard work.

A problem soon occurred to Ila and Hermione once they remembered that this one small tent would fit Ila, Hermione, Mr Weasley, Ron, Ginny, and the twins and Bill, Charlie, and Percy. The two girls shared a quizzical look as Mr Weasley dropped to his hands and knees to enter the tent.

"We'll be a bit cramped in here," he said. "But I'm sure it'll be fine. Come and have a look."

Ila bent down and entered the tent, only to be so shocked, she blocked the entrance. It wasn't until a slight shove from Hermione, did she actually move further into the tent, which looked like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

"It's bigger on the inside," Ila remarked as she continued to stare at the tent. "How's it bigger on the inside?"

"That's the magic of…being magic," Fred said as he entered the tent. George came inside the tent too. The twins looked around before their eyes landed on the armchair. They ran across the tent to see who would get there first.

"Well, it's not for long," Mr Weasley muttered, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. He was completely unaware of the twins' fighting. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago." He blew on a dusty kettle, the dust particles flying off, causing Ila to sneeze and peered inside it. "We'll need water…."

"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," Ron said, who had followed Ila inside the tent, along with Ginny and seemed completely unimpressed by its extraordinary inner proportions. "It's on the other side of the field."

"Well, why don't you, Ila, and Hermione go and get us some water then" — Mr Weasley handed over the kettle, and a couple of saucepans — "and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"

"But we've got an oven," Ron said. "Why can't we just —"

"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" Mr Weasley said, his face shining with anticipation. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"

After a small tour of the bedrooms, Ginny fussing that the girls' dormitories were smaller than the boys, Ila, Ron and Hermione soon found themselves wandering past fellow campers eagerly looking around.

"It feels like the entire wizarding population's here," Ila said as they waited in line for their water. She watched a group of young witches and wizards, who looked to be a few years older than them, talk excitedly. One of the wizards had stopped when he saw Ila, squinting his eyes.

He then elbowed his friend and asked in an American accent, "That's her, isn't it?"

Ila turned away from the group.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Hermione said, filling her pots with water. "There are so many wizards that came from other countries. I'm pretty sure I saw wizards from Haiti."

"Did you say hello to them?" Ron asked.

"No," Hermione said, furrowing her brows. "It's not like I know every single person from Haiti, Ron."

"Well, yeah, obviously…it's just, I thought…."

"I wonder if there are any wizards from India," Ila said, changing the subject. She walked past the group of Americans, all of whom were now staring at her. They finished filling their pots and began walking back. "Maybe then I don't have to wait for Sirius to tell me about the magic used in India."

"So you've talked to Sirius?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Ila said. "Talked to him…a few weeks ago."

"What's he said?" Hermione said. "Do you know where he is?"

"He's doing some nationwide tour of India," Ila explained. "Something about getting close to my parents or something…anyway, I think he's currently in Assam. Apparently, it's known for its dark magic," she said dramatically, waving her hands in front of Ron's face.

"Stop it!" Ron said, hitting her hands away.

"What?" Hermione said.

"Ron's scared of black magic."

"I'm not scared of…it," Ron replied defensively. "It's evil. I can't help but be a bit…."

"Pissy?" Ila suggested.

"Cautious."

"But black magic isn't inherently evil, though, is it?" Hermione asked. "All magic is neutral, even stuff like Dark magic. It just all depends on the person and who they use it. Even with Light magic, you can use badly."

"How? It's…good, how can you use magic that's supposed to help people badly?"

"Because…good and bad aren't…they aren't absolute, Ron. It depends on how you use it."

"Huh?"

"Right," Hermione said when she saw Ron's brows furrow further, "black and white magic describes the creation and destruction of objects. White magic creates, whereas black magic destroys. You can't say that creating objects is absolutely good and destroying objects is absolutely bad. It just so happens that many wizards that study dark or black magic have nefarious purposes. It's all relative. Take…someone using the Death Curse…obviously, you would say, because the wizards that use it are from the Dark, it means it's inherently bad, right? But what about the times when people on the Light use it?"

"Yeah…but that's…that's different," Ron said weakly.

"It isn't," Hermione said. "They're the same situation. They're both taking a person's life whether it be from the Dark or Light but because it's you that I'm asking - someone who has a bias for the Light, you're saying it's different. In fact, I'd probably get the same response if I asked someone from the Dark too. But they're not."

"Mmm," Ron hummed in response but didn't sound convinced. "Most people who use light magic are good."

"But that doesn't make the magic itself good either," Hermione said. "I'm sure there are loads of examples. Or, there are a few books about the Wizarding War that looked into both sides from an objective standpoint."

Ron groaned at the sound of the books. "Never mind."

"Imagine if Hogwarts taught us the Philosophy behind magic," Ila wondered aloud.

"My brain would be fried!"

"It'd probably be biased anyway," Hermione said.

"What makes you say that?"

"I read some books during the summer about the Wizarding War - "

"Wow, that's so out of character of you, Hermoine," Ron interrupted. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

With a glare being the only thing she responded with, she carried on explaining, "- and they were really insightful behind the morality of the Wizarding War. You know that both sides were basically the same."

Ron stared at her. "You're telling me that the side that saved the entire Wizarding Society is the same as the side who wanted to kill the entire Wizarding Society."

"Not in that sense," Hermione huffed. "I mean, the way they recruited their members – both specifically honed in on young students. They both manipulated their members, telling them that they'll be seen as brave or would be honoured for their hard work. Both were ready to use said members like pawns. Neither cared for the actual safety of the people they were working in; they just wanted to one-up each other. They're practically the two sides of the same coin?"

"Seriously, Mione? You're actually trying to convince me that Dumbledore and You Know Who are the same?" Ron asked.

"Rather than blindly following everything, Ron," Hermione said, "go think for yourself for once."

The trio remained silent for quite a while. Ila wasn't sure how that argument had escalated. Then again, she never knows how her two friends can turn nothing into something. But, unable to take the silence anymore, she asked -

"I always wondered why Hogwarts doesn't teach magic from other countries."

"Probably because they want people to think that British magic is superior," Hermione muttered.

"When I went to Egypt last year," Ron said, "they were talking about how ancient Egyptians would worship a god of magic."

"I heard of that, weren't there seers then too?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Too hot to concentrate."

Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't say anything. At least they weren't arguing anymore. Ila wondered where Hermione's anger came from. She had to agree with Ron about equating Dumbledore to Voldemort was wrong. Dumbledore wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone have his members be killed. If anything, it was probably accidental. He probably didn't want them to die…they just had to. He probably felt guilty for doing so.

"Er - is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" Ron said suddenly. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.

"Unless we're having a shared hallucination or travelled to an alternate universe where everyone supported the Irish," Hermione said, rubbing her eyes slightly. "I doubt it."

"Ila! Ron! Hermione!"

It was Seamus Finnigan, their fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.

"Like the decorations?" Seamus said, grinning. "The Ministry's not too happy."

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colours?" said Mrs Finnigan. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she added, eyeing Ila, Ron, and Hermione beadily.

When they had assured her that they were indeed supporting Ireland, they set off again, though, as Ron said, "Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot."

"I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" Hermione said.

"Let's go and have a look," Ila said, pointing to a large patch of tents upheld, where the Bulgarian flag - white, green, and red - was fluttering in the breeze. The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

"Krum," Ron said quietly.

"What crumbs?" Hermione asked, looking around the floor.

"Krum!" Ron said louder, pointing to the posters. "As in, Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"

"Oh…" Hermione said, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them. "He looks rather grumpy,"

" 'Rather grumpy'?" Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius. You wait until tonight; you'll see."

Here and there, they saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families.

"Uh oh!" Ila moaned as they came up to a bunch of tents, coming up to one where a guy who looked freakishly like Ila's ex Quidditch captain came out of his tent. "Don't move," she said as she ducked behind Ron.

"Yeah, it's hard to do so when you keep tickling my back," Ron giggled, trying to step away from Ila, who grabbed him every time he did.

"Who're you trying to hide from?" Hermione asked, looking around.

"Oliver Wood, straight ahead," Ila muttered and watched recognition dawn on Hermione when she saw him.

"Why do you care?" Ron asked, making sure his water didn't spill.

"The moment I see him, he's going to introduce me to everyone and won't shut up about Quidditch," Ila explained, peeking behind Ron to see Oliver talking to his parents before doing a double look at Ron and Hermione. "He's a nice guy, but the man is obsessed."

"Well, too late," Ron said before grabbing Ila. He pulled her to the front just as Oliver saw her and ran up to her.

"What kind of friend are you?" Ila hissed.

"One that doesn't want to get attacked."

"It's not my fault your so ticklish-"

"Ila!" Oliver smiled before embracing her in what would have been a bone-crushing hug if it weren't for the pot she held getting in the way of the two. "Good to see you," he said once he pulled away. "You haven't changed one bit."

"If you're trying to make fun of the fact that I'm vertically challenged," Ila said dryly.

"Vertically challenged," he laughed, slapping her hard on the back, causing some of the water to spill on her trainers. "You may be at a concerning height Ila, but that's what makes you great seeker," – he tapped her nose –"Now come and meet my parents."

Before she could say anything, Oliver dragged her away from her friends, who made no effort to help her, all the way to his tent. Before Wood went into a long, drawn-out explanation about how he got signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team, she met his parents. If it weren't for the large age gap, it looked like she met his parents for the first time to get their blessing.

"It's was great to see you again, Ila," Oliver said, once Ila found an excuse to leave early (Ron needed to go back, he had a bit of a…stomach problem). "We should keep in contact."

"We should," Ila said, smiling, waving goodbye. Her smile dropped the moment she turned around. "You two are the worst friends anyone could have," she told Hermione and Ron before walking away.

Since Ila was ahead of the three, she wasn't sure where she was going, making random twists and turns around tents, hoping that either Ron or Hermione would say something, but they didn't. The only time Ron did was when she heard him mutter, "Oh, not him again!"

Ila looked to her left where the Diggorys tent stood. Cedric was sitting outside reading 'A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration' as he lazily fiddled with his wand.

"I bet Cedric would have helped you if you were forced to talk to your Quidditch obsessed ex-captain," Ila told Ron loudly, catching Cedric's attention. He waved at the three of them again, telling them to come over. Ila didn't need to be told twice.

"Hello again," he said to Ila, considering Hermione was having a tough time pushing Ron towards Cedric.

"Hello," Ila said once she stood in front of him. He was wearing a green shamrock badge, similar to Seamus and even had a large green hat beside his feet.

"My father isn't here…he left to do some Ministry business…I'm not sure what it is, to be honest…."

"Right," Ila said, not knowing why he was telling her this. She didn't think Cedric knew either.

"I just wanted to apologise," he said sincerely after a few moments of silence. "My father should never have said that-"

"It's fine," Ila interjected, not wanting to hear his apology. He wasn't the one who did something wrong. "It's not the first time people say things like that."

"But they shouldn't say things like that, to begin with."

"It doesn't help that I'm a girl too," Ila said. "A lot of people don't like that."

"Those people are idiots, Ila," he replied. "I think it's amazing."

Internally, she was running around, jumping up and down while holding up a banner that said, "CEDRIC DIGGORY JUST CALLED ME AMAZING!"

"Thank you," she said simply. "I…er…I should head back now."

"Hope you enjoy the game," he said, waving.

"You too."

She walked back to her friends, her grumpy mood lifted. Ron crinkled his nose in disgust while Hermione smiled back, although she looked suspicious.

"What happened to you?" he asked as they walked back, this time going the right way.

"Nothing," Ila said, a smile plastered on her face.

"Does this have anything to do with talking to Cedric?" Hermione asked.

Ila shook her head. "Just excited for the game."

"Are you sure-"

"Oh, look who d'you reckon they are?" she said, pointing to a group of wizards, similar to their age. "They don't go to Hogwarts, do they?"

" 'Spect they go to some foreign school," Ron said, oblivious to Ila's change of subject. "I know there are others. I never met anyone who went to one, though. Bill had a penfriend at a school in Brazil, and he wanted to go on an exchange trip, but Mum and Dad couldn't afford it. His penfriend got all offended when he said he wasn't going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up."

"You guys took your time," George said when they finally got back to the Weasleys' tents.

"Met a few people," Ron said, setting the water down. "You not got that fire started yet?"

"Dad's having fun with the matches," Fred said.

Mr Weasley had no success at lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life. "Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

"Come here, Mr Weasley," Hermione said kindly, taking the box from him and showing him how to do it properly. At last, they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Ila's and Hermione's benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.

At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.

"Just Apparated, Dad," Percy said proudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"

They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them.

"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person Ila had seen so far. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England.

"Is he supposed to look like a wasp?" Ila asked her friends.

Ron laughed, "That's Ludo Bagman; he used to be a pretty good beater for the Wimbourne Wasps…he's a bit of a has-been now."

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called out. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet. "Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for perfect weather? A cloudless night coming…and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements…Not much for me to do!"

Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant fire. A wizard had tried putting it out but mistook the liquid in the water bottle as water when it was kerosene, and the fire exploded, rising to 20 metres.

"He doesn't work with the Ministry, does he?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"Unfortunately, he does," Percy said, joining in their conversation, much to Ron's displeasure. "He works for the Department of Magical Games, and he's supposed to be in charge of it…Look at him. He's not even dressed in Muggle clothing!"

"Ah — yes," Mr Weasley said to Bagman, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry — and this is Fred — no, George, sorry — that's Fred — Bill, Charlie, Ron — my daughter, Ginny — and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Ila Potter." Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Ila's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Ila's forehead.

"Everyone," Mr Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets —" Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Potner betting me Bulgaria will score first — I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years — and little Agatha Timms put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match."

"Oh...go on then," Mr Weasley said. "Let's see…a Galleon on Ireland to win?"

"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed but recovered himself. "Very well, very well…any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," Mr Weasley chuckled. "Molly wouldn't like —"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," Fred said as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins — but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand."

"You don't want to go showing Mr Bagman rubbish like that —" Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.

"Boys," Mr Weasley whispered under his breath, "I don't want you betting…That's all your savings! Your mother —"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win, but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance… I'll give you excellent odds on that one…We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we…."

Mr Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.

"Cheers," George said, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away carefully. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr Weasley.

"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."

"Mr Crouch?" Percy said, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. He moved away from the trio, and as in a trance, he said, "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll-"

"Anyone can speak Troll," Fred said dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt." Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.

"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" Mr Weasley asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside them all.

"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha…memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July…mind you, she isn't the only one who disappeared."

"What?" Mr Weasley said as Percy handed Bagman his tea. "Who else?"

"Lauren Dawlish – you know John's wife," Bagman said, sipping his tea. "The one who works for the Daily Prophet."

"I thought she was his daughter," Percy said.

"She's young enough to be his daughter, but I'm not one to judge," Bagman said. "Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, John woke up and found her gone. All of her clothes, belongings, she'd taken everything with her."

"I didn't realise she had run away," Mr Weasley said. "Everyone in the papers is saying she ran away."

"John didn't think so…poor bloke though he could find her himself," he said. "I think he's a bit embarrassed. Everyone always did think that she was in it for the money, and then…one day she disappears without a single galleon insight."

"Not even at Gringotts?"

"Nope. Took the whole lot."

"They at least should have people looking for her and Bertha too," Mr Weasley said tentatively. "Even if one of them doesn't want to be found."

"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," Bagman said, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh — talk of the devil! Barty!"

A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie.

"Pull up a bit of grass, Barty," Ludo said brightly, patting the ground beside him.

"No thank you, Ludo," Crouch said, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

"Oh, is that what they're after?" Bagman said, looking thoughtful. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."

"Mr Crouch!" Percy said breathlessly, sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback. "W-would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh," Mr Crouch said, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes — thank you, Weatherby."

Fred and George choked into their own cups.

Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle. "Oh, and I've wanted a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."

"But I've told him-"

"You know what Arabs are like. They want everything their own way."

"So that's Mr Crouch?" Ila asked.

"Percy's future husband?" Ron said. "Yes."

"Or Percy's future," Ila said. "Is everyone that works at the Ministry racist? Apart from your father and Percy."

"Percy's a bit debatable now that he works for Crouch," Ron said.

"We agreed not to announce all the details —"

"Oh, details shmetails!" Bagman said. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts —"

"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," Mr Crouch said sharply, cutting Bagman's remarks short. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."

He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his pockets chinking merrily.

"See you all later!" he said. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me — I'm commentating!"

He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" Fred said at once. "What were they talking about?" "You'll find out soon enough," said, smiling.

"It's classified information until the Ministry decides to release it," Percy said stiffly. "Mr Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh, piss off, Weatherby," said Fred.