A/N: The face-claim to Stephen Cornfoot is Thomas McDonnell and the face-claim to Tracey Davis is Reina Hardesty.

Chapter 1: The World Cup

"Where are we going?" asked Ron with a yawn.

I was already getting sweat-soaked because I wore the green jumper that Mrs Weasley had knitted for me for Christmas. It was cold outside, but the walk was overheating me.

"Haven't the foggiest! Keep up!" called Mr Weasley over his shoulder.

I was already getting sweat-soaked because I wore my favourite grey denim jacket that my friends, Stephen Cornfoot and Tracey Davis drew on. They had drawn on the left side. I wore a long-sleeved black shirt underneath it and I even wore a black-and-grey plaid, pleated skirt with green fleece tights to stay warm. The green tights was to support the Ireland team and not Slytherin pride.

"Haven't the foggiest! Keep up!" called Mr Weasley over his shoulder.

That didn't make me feel better.

We were a bit more further along when I heard:

"Arthur! It's about time, son," called a different man.

"Sorry, Amos. Some of us had a bit of a sleepy start," said Mr. Weasley. "This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works with me at the Ministry."

A guy fell out of the tree.

Well, I say fell, but he jumped out of the tree. I recognised him as Cedric Diggory, because he was the one who had won a Quidditch match by getting the Snitch before Harry, who had fallen off of his broom, last year. I idolized Cedric for it, because someone finally knocked Harry down a peg. Was that cruel? Yeah, but I didn't care.

"And this strapping young lad must be Cedric, am I right?" asked Mr Weasley.

"Yes, sir," replied Cedric.

"Dibs on Cedric," Ginny whispered to Granger and me.

The four-year age difference kind of freaked me out a little.

"I thought you had dibs on Harry?" Granger whispered back.

I checked myself out of this conversation because the whole talk about fancying someone made me uncomfortable, because they kept asking me if I had a crush on my friend, Stephen Cornfoot, but I denied it. And just to be sure, I denied having feelings for Tracey Davis. So I made up the idea of fancying Roger Davies from the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, just to get to them bugger off. I mean, Roger Davies was cute, I suppose.

I just…didn't fancy anyone at the moment.

"Long walk, Arthur?" asked Amons.

"Not too bad," said Mr Weasley. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

Amos explained, "Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still…not complaining…Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons – and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy…" He looked at Mr Weasley's children, Harry, Granger, and me. He asked, "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh, no, only the redheads," said Mr Weasley, pointing at his children. "This is Granger, friend of Ron's – and Harry and M—"

"Merlin's beard, you must be Harry Potter," said Amos in awe.

"Yes, sir," replied Harry.

I felt a stab of jealousy, and tried to stomp it down. I don't need to deal with that at the moment. I don't want the fame. I want the recognition.

"Ced's talk about you, of course," said Amos. "Told us all about playing against you last year…I said to him, I said – 'Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that well…you beat Harry Potter!"

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," Cedric muttered to his dad. "I told you…it was an accident…"

That was something about Hufflepuffs, they're very modest. I also heard from Tracey that Cedric wanted a rematch.

"Always modest, our Ced, always the gentlemen…but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh?" Amos said.

"That's the difference between you and Harry. It was an accident that Cedric won. It was during a thunderstorm, dementors swarmed the pitch, and he fell because of them. I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be all fairness, but I guess that's the difference between you and Cedric. He asked for a rematch, but you're bragging about something that's unfair," I said angrily. I had to channel my angry and bitterness some place, and I hate to admit it, Amos was an easier target to throw it at. I stomped off, trying to force myself to calm down.

"Must be nearly time," said Mr Weasley, looking at his watch. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get any tickets," said Amos. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," said Mr Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off…we'd better get ready…"

I apologised to Amos for my attitude as I walked by him to go to Harry and Granger, thankfully now calm.

Amos, thankfully, accepted it.

Mr Weasley said, "Good, Mikania, you're here. You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do—"

I doubted that Granger needed to be told how a Portkey works; with the way she acted, one would think that she grew up in the Wizarding World.

With difficulty, we crammed together in a circle, touching a manky old boot.

It just occurred to me that there were eight teens and two adult men standing in a circle, touching some boot, and if some unfortunate Muggle came by, it must've been a sight to behold.

"Three…two…one…" Mr Weasley counted down.

I felt an unpleasant jerk right behind my bellybutton. I was pulled upwards and I was terrified of the fact that my feet had involuntarily been yanked off the ground.

My vision blurred and I can feel Ginny's and George's shoulders banging into mine.

"Let go, kids!" Mr Weasley ordered.

"What?" yelled Granger for the both of us.

"Let! Go!" Mr Weasley said.

Then my finger was suddenly removed without my consent and I was screaming as I tumbled through the grey coloured space, trying to grab a hold of someone, before I was landing feet first onto the ground, before toppling onto my back. I think I preferred the Floo transportation better.

I had the wind knocked out of me. It didn't help my mood when I spotted Cedric, Amos, and Mr Weasley gracefully walking down from the Portkey.

Mr Weasley asked, "I bet that cleared your sinuses, eh?"

As a matter of fact, it did, but I didn't dare say that. I already snapped at one adult today, I didn't want to snap at another.

I promised myself to try and be a better person in my fourth year, to make up for everything I said and done my previous school years.

I got up, feeling like I had sea legs again; like that time Uncle Vernon took us across the ocean to that hut on the rock to escape the letters. I wonder if it had been blown out to sea.

"First time with Portkeys?" Cedric asked me.

"Gee, I wonder what gave it away," I said. After a pause, I added, "Sorry for yelling at your dad, earlier."

Cedric, being a better person that I'll ever be, just shrugged, "Its fine. He kept banging on about it and refused to listen to me."

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.

There were two tired and grumpy-looking wizards. One held a large gold watch and the other held a thick roll of parchment and a quill.

One wizard wore a tweed suit and thigh-length galoshes. The other man wore a kilt and poncho.

"Morning, Basil," said Mr Weasley, handing the boot over to the kilted wizard. The wizard threw it into a large box of used Portkeys.

"Hello there, Arthur," said Basil, sounding weary. "Not on duty, ehb? It's all right for some…we've been here all night…you'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite…" He looked at the parchment, muttering, "Weasley…Wesley…" After looking he said, "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr Roberts. Diggory…second field…ask for Mr Payne."

"Thanks, Basil," said Mr Weasley.

We headed off.

After twenty minutes, we came across a small stone cottage right next to a gate. Beyond the cottage, I saw hundreds of tents, rising up on the horizon.

"Bye," I said to Cedric. "Sorry again for being a jerk to you, Amos."

We approached the cottage, where a man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents.

For the normal sense of style, this man must be a Muggle.

"Hello!" I called. "Are you Mr Roberts?"

The man turned, looking startled by me. "Aye, I would. And who're you?"

"Weasley – one tent, booked a couple of days ago," Mr Weasley, speaking up for me.

"Aye," said Mr Roberts, looking at a list that was tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

"That's it," said Mr Weasley.

"You'll be paying now, then?" asked Mr Roberts.

"Ah – right – certainly –" said Mr Weasley. He beckoned me and Harry towards him. "Help me, you two." He pulled a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and started pulling the notes apart. "This one's a – a – a ten?"

"Yes," I said.

"Ah, yes, I see the little number on it now…so this is a five?" Mr Weasley said.

"Twenty," Harry corrected me.

"Ah, yes, so it is," Mr Weasley. "I don't know these little bits of paper."

"You foreign?" Mr Roberts asked after Mr Weasley gave him the correct notes.

"Foreign?" asked Mr Weasley.

"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," said Mr Roberts. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."

"Did you really?" asked Mr Weasley nervously.

"Never been this crowded," said Mr Roberts looking out over the misty field, "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up…"

"That's really odd," I said.

"Is that right?" asked Mr Weasley, holding his hand out for his change, but Mr Roberts didn't give it to him.

"Aye," said Mr Roberts. "People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdoes, you know? There's a bloke walking round in a kilt and a poncho."

"Why shouldn't he?" I asked. "It's kind of misty and he's probably a Scot."

"It's like some sort of…I dunno…like some sort of rally," said Mr Roberts. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party."

A wizard appeared next to Mr Roberts's front door and the wizard said, "Oblivate!"

Mr Roberts took on a dreamy unconcerned look. He just had his mind modified.

It was horrifying because I was sure I heard somewhere that continuous use of the Forgetful Charm can have lasting consequences on a person.

"A map of the campsite for you and your change." He handed the map change to Mr Weasley.

"Thank you very much," said Mr Weasley.

The wizard who used the Forgetful Charm looked exhausted. His chin was blue with stubble and he had deep purple shadows under his eyes. "Been havin a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman's not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur."

He Disapparated.

"I thought Mr Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports?" said Ginny. "He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?"

"He should," replied Mr Weasley smiling. He led us through the gates into the campsite. "Ludo's always been a bit…well…lax about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic Head of the Sports Department, though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."

I was kind of annoyed because Ginny asked a question and we got a lecture instead.

We trudged up the field to head to our campsite.

Most of the tents looked normal, since some liked Muggle-like.

However, there were some that had chimneys, or bell-pulls, or weather-vanes. One tent had striped silk and looked like a miniature palaces. To my horror, there were several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. I had to tell Tracey and Stephen about this. At nightfall, those peacocks will be released.

There were people flying on broomsticks to add to it.

As we walked past the crowd, I even say a tent that had three floors and several turrets. There was even a tent that had a front garden attached to it, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

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

"Oi! Mikania!" someone yelled. I turned to look, but I couldn't see who had shouted my name, or why they yelled for me. I smiled and waved, hoping that it was just someone yelling 'hi' at me and not mocking me.

We finally reached the edge of the wood that was at a top of the field. There was an small tent that was more likely to fit two people than eleven people, once Percy, Bill, and Charlie arrived.

I looked at my brother and Granger confused.

There was a small sign that was hammered into the ground that read 'Weezly'." That was embarrassing.

"Home sweet home," said Mr Weasley. "Couldn't have a better spot! The pitch is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close we could be. We'll be a bit cramped, but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

Everyone else ahead of me got in the tent, but Harry and I stood outside, bewildered by the fact that everyone just walked in.

"It has to be like a Tardis," I whispered to Harry.

I let him go in ahead and I followed after him. It was bigger on the inside, like I had thought.

It was like an old-fashioned flat with three rooms, complete with a bathroom and kitchen. There were crocheted covers on mismatched chairs.

"I love magic," Harry whispered. I nodded in agreement.

There were four bunk beds in the bedroom area. "Well, it's not for long. I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much any more, poor fellow, he's got lumbago."

It was actually stunning.

"Girls, choose a bunk and unpack," said Mr Weasley. "Ron, get out of the kitchen, we're all hungry."

"Yeah, get out of the kitchen, Ron," the Weasley said in unison.

"Feet off the table," said Mr Weasley.

"Feet off the table," said the Weasley twins in unison, once again. They took their feet off the table.

I rolled my eyes when I noticed that they put their feet back up as soon as their dad walked by.

I sort of have love-hate feelings towards the Weasley twins.

On one hand, I appreciate how they came to rescue Harry from the Dursleys since he got locked in our room (I snuck him extra food when Aunt Petunia gave him a can of soup.) They did give Harry the Marauder's Map and cheered him up with the whole Heir of Slytherin debacle. They did a lot of good things for Harry.

On the other hand, minor things that they did annoyed the hell of out of me, stuff like now for example, or purposely talking in unison or finishing each other's sentences…sometimes their pranks were cool and cruel at the same time; for example, engorging Dudley's tongue like that. Yes, Dudley is an arse and a bully, but that was a little too far and bullying Percy for being made a prefect and becoming Head Boy. I get family mocking and they had each other's backs, but still…I mean Harry and I were cruel to each other when were young kids.

There was also them throwing snowballs at Professor Quirrel's head (that also had Voldemort there, but they didn't know that). Humor is subjective and maybe I just don't find them all that funny. Sure there are some stuff that they say that makes me laugh and smile, but really, I just don't find them all that funny.

But I know they were kind, decent people who were mean and cruel sometimes.

Maybe I had spent too much time in the snake pit and my humour had warped.

My extremely fluffy black-and-white cat, Pepper, had claimed a bed for me and her. It was the bottom bunk of the middle bed. I had left her behind but she showed up. It was a miracle Pepper found her way all the way over here unharmed and in a very short amount.

We ate and I took a shower and changed, (I still wondered where the water even came from in this tent.) It was still daylight out. I told Mr Weasley and Harry that I was going to see my friends. He told me to be back at six in the evening.

I mean, I wasn't really much of a Quidditch fanatic like Harry and Ron, even though I was on the Slytherin Quidditch team. I mean, it was a hobby, and I don't think Quidditch will impact my life.

I had to pass other tents, trying to find either Tracey or Stephen. There were a lot of tents and a lot of people. It was a shock that there were people from other countries here. I mean there were people from Bulgaria, which makes sense because it's Bulgaria versus Ireland.

Malfoy certainly bragged about how he was almost sent to Durmstrang, a school that put a lot of emphasis on teaching Dark Arts and refuses to admit Muggleborns. No surprise the nasty little tit would want to learn the Dark Arts.

I found Tracey first. Tracey was half-white and half-Japanese from her mother's side. She had brown hair and brown eyes. She was Welsh, but she had moved to Britain when she was nine-years-old.

As we walked to find Stephen, (Tracey asked the others if they had seen him), I told her about the peacocks that were tethered. She got mad about it and agreed to my plan of releasing them at night. We tried to formulate a plan on how-to release the peacocks while we tried to find Stephen.

One of our plans involved sparks as a distraction and using the invisibility cloak to free them.

Another one of our plans was to untie them and led them away.

We agreed to let Stephen come up with the plan. Tracey comes up with the plans, Stephen comes up with Plan Bs, and I get the stuff needed to carry out the plans. That's how our group works.

"Duck!" Tracey yelled and I ducked.

Some people flew right over us on broomsticks.

I learned that when someone yells 'duck', you bloody well duck. You don't know if someone is throwing a charm, hex, or curse at you, or if someone, like now, is coming right at your head on a bloody broomstick.

We orientated ourselves and continued on.

We managed to find Stephen, who was looking bored with his older sister and parents. He was 5'8, not much taller than Tracey and I who were roughly 5'6. He had shaggy black hair and he was Scottish, living in Hogsmeade Village with his family.

He looked over at us, nodded at Tracey, and smiled when he saw me, like his face lit up. It took me a moment to realise that he never smiled and lit up like that whenever he saw Tracey. It was always me. He had a crush on me…

Merlin, he had a crush on me.

In a way, it made me feel warm and pleasant inside, which was a nice change.

"Have you seen the Irish section?" asked Stephen.

"Er, no," I replied.

Stephen started leading us to the Irish section. While he did we told him about the peacocks and the plans we had on releasing them.

He seemed to be thinking it over when we reached a section that had were covered with a thick growth of shamrocks. It looked like oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth.

"Is it just me or are there faces in the flaps?" Tracey asked in a whisper.

I looked closely at the flaps, to see if Tracey was messing with me and sure enough, there were faces.

"There's also the Bulgarians," said Stephen.

I noticed Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, two of the Gryffindor fourth-years, looking at me. Finnegan pointed at us and seemed to hiss.

"Let's go," I said quickly.

I understand that as a rule of Gryffindor, you have to hate Slytherin (feud and all) but sometimes I think it goes a little too far. However, I think my poor relationship with Harry helped fuelled that resentment.

We backtracked and went to see the Bulgarian side.

"How was your summer?" Tracey asked me.

"Same shite, different summer," I muttered. "My uncle was training the furry gerbil to make the school boxing team. Dudley also went on a diet."

"Just exactly how fat is he?" asked Stephen.

"His school outfitters don't have the size of knickerbockers for him," I said. "He's about one-hundred-twenty kilos. Harry exaggerates something."

"Ew," said Tracey grimacing. "He needs that diet."

"Yeah," I replied. "Since he went on a diet, everyone else went on one too. Thanks for the food."

They had sent me assorted canned food and other non-perishable food that was more like campfire food. At least it was actual food and not a bunch of sweets like Harry had gotten. Ron, Granger, Hagrid, and Sirius had sent Harry a cake each, so he got four cakes. Well, Sirius had sent me one too, but he was more Harry's godfather, but at least Sirius tried to include me. I tried to write to my godfather, Remus Lupin and keep up with him, but he was busy and didn't respond as much. I sent him some of my food to try and help him out. I don't know if he appreciated it or not.

I did split my non-perishable food with Harry so he's not just surviving off cake alone and he did split his junk food with me.

They talked about their summers.

Stephen spent time with his sister, Victoria, who took him to a concert.

Tracey just spent her time doing the homework and interacted with the other neighbourhood teens.

At least their summers were a lot more entertaining than mine.

We got to the Bulgaria section, which was obvious because of the red, green, and white flag. However there wasn't plant-life on the tents but each one had a poster of a guy on it. He had a surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was moving, but the guy was blinking and scowling.

"That's Viktor Krum," Stephen said. "He's the Bulgarian Seeker. He's eighteen I think. Where's the peacocks?"

It was hard to find the tent with the peacocks, but we managed to find it.

Tracey glared at the miniature palace tent. "They're so going down."

We headed back to Stephen's tent. I looked at the time of my pocket watch, which was a gift from Stephen I still had time.

After we made a plan at Tracey's tent, I went back to the Weasley's tent or as it was spelt: Weezly.

"See you all later!" a man said to the Weasleys, Harry, and Granger. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me – I'm commentating!" He waved, and I think that was Barty Crouch nodded, and both of them Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" asked Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," said Mr Weasley smiling.

Note to self: Ask Tracey and Stephen when we get back to find out what's happening at Hogwarts.

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

"Oh, shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.

I rolled my eyes at Fred, although I found myself annoyed with Percy too, but I wasn't going to be a git to him.

Percy was an insufferable know-it-all. He was the older red-haired male, Weasley version of Granger.

"Oh, there you are, Mikania," said Mr Weasley, finally spotting me.

"Who was that with Crouch?" I asked.

"Oh, you know Crouch?" asked Mr Weasley.

"I read some books in the common room and I heard stories from the older Slytherins." I said.

"What happened to his son?" asked Harry.

Before I could tell him, salespeople were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts of merchandise.

There were luminous rosettes – green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria – they squealed the names of the players. There were pointed green hats with dancing shamrocks and there were Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared. There were flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand and preened.

I had to ask Harry, Granger, and Ron who the guy was, that was with Barty Crouch, because I was never told who he was. He was Ludo Bagman and the Weasley twins had placed a bet with him.

"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Ron told Harry as we went through the salespeople. A saleswoman smiled when I bought a green pointed hat and a mini Firebolt.

Ron got a dancing-shamrock hat and a large green rosette. I noticed he bought a small figure of Viktor Krum.

"Wow, look at these!" exclaimed Harry, hurrying to a car that was piled with brass binoculars that was covered with weird knobs and dials.

"Ominoculars," said a saleswizard. "You can replay action…slow everything down…and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain – ten Galleons each."

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing to his hat.

"Four pairs," said Harry firmly.

"What?" I asked surprised.

"No – don't bother," said Ron, going red.

Ron was poor and was touchy on the subject. Harry and I had inherited a small fortune from our parents.

"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry said to Ron, giving Omnioculars to Granger and Ron., To Ron, he added, "For about ten years, mind."

"Fair enough," replied Ron, grinning.

Harry gave me some Omnioculars.

"Thanks, Harry," I said.

We went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny all had green rosettes. Mr Weasley had an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs because apparently they had bet it all away with Ludo Bagman.

There was a deep, booming gong from somewhere beyond the woods. At once green and red lanterns blazed in the trees, lighting a path to the pitch.

"It's time!" said Mr Weasley, looking excited as I was beginning to feel. "Come on, let's go!"

We followed Mr Weasley into the wood until we hit a stadium. The walls were gold and it seemed big enough to fit ten cathedrals inside.

"How many people can this thing hold?" I asked.

"A hundred thousand," said Mr Weasley. "Ministry task force of five hundred has been working on it all year. Muggle-Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again…" He added, "Bless them."

He was a Muggle nut. He liked everything about Muggles. He had owned a flying car that could turn invisible. I say had…because Ron and Harry took it to fly to Hogwarts when the barrier to the platform had gotten sealed. I had made it to the train because I chose to walk with Mr Weasley through the barrier.

The stairs in the stadium were covered with rich purple carpet. With the way everyone used emerald green ink, I was surprised the carpet wasn't green.

We kept climbing and I was beginning to think that I should start crawling up the steps, because I was already tired.

"Blimey, Dad," said Ron. "How far up are we?"

"Well, put it this way, if it rains…you'll be the first to know," someone said.

I almost groaned because I hated that person almost as much as I hated his son.

I hated Malfoy so much. Honestly, I can't believe that he even got sorted into Slytherin, he wasn't really that bright, or cunning, let me count the ways:

1. He got beaten by two girls, who weren't even introduced to the Wizarding World 'til we got our letters. As much as Granger annoyed me, I was glad that she beat that oaf.

2. He got caught trying to get Harry and Granger into trouble, because he's that stealthy and cunning.

3. Got his dad to bribe his son's arse onto the Quidditch team, just to prove that you have money and not even talent just to get on the team.

4. Use what amounts to a racial slur in front of an entire crowd of athletes, ones who would have defended Granger. But prejudice like that was, sadly, commonplace.

a. Salazar Slytherin must be rolling his grave.

5. He bragged about what illegal crap his dad hid in the basement. That's akin to someone bragging about how their dad keeps dead bodies in the basement. However, it was in Slytherin, so no one would blab about it.

6. Use the same slur in front of everyone after the feast, because he wasn't done making an arse out of himself, and wasn't done making Slytherins out to be arseholes either.

7. Not follow the teacher's instructions after the teacher had told us and warned us about what harm the dangerous creatures will do if we didn't follow the bloody instructions.

a. Wait. That was intentional? Wow, he actually had a plan.

b. His plan was to run to his daddy to get our teacher's pet killed…out of spite for Hagrid…and probably because Malfoy got off on other's misery.

c. He wasn't even trying to get Hagrid sacked; he was just trying to get Buckbeak killed because Hagrid loved Buckbeak. It wasn't even to get a better Care of Magical Creatures teacher. He just wanted to make Hagrid depressed.

8. He dressed up as a Dementor to scare Harry, who was terrified of Dementors…in the middle of Quidditch, which is attended by every teacher at school, which means that Malfoy will catch hell by getting caught.

a. Guess what? He did, after Harry shot a Patronus at them.

Salazar Slytherin must be rolling so hard in his grave that it must look like he's trapped in a washing machine.

"Father, Mother, and I are in the Minister's Box, by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself," Junior bragged.

"Don't boast, Draco. There's no need with these people," sneered Malfoy Senior.

"Don't worry, Drastic Malfunction! Granger and I would surely enjoy kicking your arse with the end of the term's exams," I called down at them. To add salt to the wound, I added, "Again, for the third time in a row! I would keep that thief option open as a career, because that's all you'll ever end up being!"

We were going to go on, but Major Malfunction had the guts to dare to put his eye-sore of a cane on Harry's arm, causing him to grunt.

I grabbed a hold of the snake's head and held on tightly to it when he tried to pull it out of my hand. I had loads of practice curtsey of Dudley trying to yank something away from me; all the tugging did was cause the wand to pull out slightly.

I pulled the wand out, "Do keep your cane to yourself. You wouldn't want someone to snap it, now would you?" I tossed it back to him.

"Let's go," said Harry, trying to yank me away.

I had a feeling that wand saw a lot of bloodshed, especially the Muggleborn type of blood.

"Do enjoy yourself, won't you?" called Major Malfunction. "While you still can."

The Malfunction family wandered off and Ron muttered, "Slimy gits," darkly under his breath.

That sounded a lot like a threat. What was he planning?

It wasn't a secret that Major Malfunction was a Death Eater and he certainly was a part of Ol' Voldy Mouldy's inner circle. He crawled claiming to be under the Imperius Curse, but I called bull on that. He enjoyed it and he thrived under it.

"Stop glowering, Mikki, it's kind of scary," said Harry.

"He's planning something," I said. "I just know it."

"You're being paranoid," Harry replied.

That's just it, wasn't it? I couldn't tell if it was paranoia or my intuition.

"Come on," said Mr Weasley.

We hurried onwards.

"Come on up. Take your seats. I told you these seats would be worth waiting for," said Mr Weasley.

Ludo Bagman, I was sure, came in. His nose looked squashed; he had round blue eyes, short blond hair, and a rosy complexion. He looked a lot like an overgrown schoolboy. He asked, "Everyone ready?" He looked excited. He took out his wand, pointed it as his own throat and said, "'Sonorus!'" He spoke over the roar the stadium. "Ladies and gentlemen…welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. The huge blackboard that was opposite of us was wiped clear of its advertisement and now showed: BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce the Bulgarian Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, that was entirely solid red, roared its approval.

Mr Weasley took off his glasses and hurriedly polished them with his shirt. "Veela!"

I used my Omnioculars to look at the Veela. They were pretty blonde haired girls and they started dancing.

I was instantly bored and stopped watching them. There was movement from the corner of my eye and I saw Harry going to the guardrail. I had to grab Harry's arm and drag him back. I had half the mind to slap him, you know, to slap some sense into him, but I was sure that the Veela had that effect on the male species, judging from the angry yells that the crowd was having. I wondered how Stephen reacted to it, but I had to shake that off because the thought annoyed me. I also wondered how it affected the crowd of women who also liked women.

"And now…" Bagman's voice said, "Kindly put your wands in the air…for the Irish National Team Mascot!"

Five people on broomsticks flew through the air, trailing green and white behind them.

"It's the Irish!" yelled Fred.

"Thanks, Fred! Here I was thinking they were the Bulgarians!" I replied sarcastically.

"Glad to help!" Fred said.

The Irish flew into the air and they shoot out sparks, like fireworks, but they formed into a leprechaun that started doing a jig. The leprechaun exploded, causing gold coins to rain down on us.

I grabbed one and looked at it. It looked like a Galleon and I took a Galleon out of my pocket to compare it. The leprechaun's coin was smaller in size. Of course it was obvious that the Irish team wouldn't actually give out thousands of Galleons like that. Leprechaun gold only lasted a few hours.

Ron held out a handful of old coins to Harry. "There you go! For the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!"

"Leave it!" I told him.

"What?" asked Ron.

"It's leprechaun gold. It'll last a couple of hours. It would probably be gone before the end of the match," I told him.

Ron tossed down the coins disgusted. Maybe I shouldn't have told him about the fake gold and let them find out on their own, but I'm not cruel.

Besides, Ron was Harry's friend. Harry would buy Ron a Christmas present anyway.

"Thanks," Ron grumbled.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome – the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!" Bagman announced.

"Here come the Bulgarians!" called George.

The Bulgarians shot from the leprechaun mascot, disintegrating it, turning the green sparks red. They circled the pitch, but one figure did a hand stand on his broom.

"Who's that?" yelled Granger.

"That's the best Seeker in the world!" said Fred.

"That's Krum," I said.

A large picture of Krum appeared on the large screen and the crowd began chanting Krum's name.

The Weasleys yelled Krum's name and I wondered why they were supporting Ireland when they clearly favoured Krum.

Bagman called out the names for both teams.

After that, it was for Quidditch and I kind of zoned out a bit.

The Irish side was winning. It was hard to watch because they were using Firebolts. I was stuck with my Nimbus 2000 that I picked because it was slightly cheaper than my Slytherin teammates' Nimbus 2001s. Harry had a Firebolt that he got from Sirius when his Nimbus had gotten walloped by the Whomping Willow.

I followed Krum's movements because…well, he was a fantastic Seeker. He was even better than Harry. I wouldn't have been surprised if Krum was trained from birth to be a Seeker.

"They're going to crash!" yelled Granger.

She was sort of correct.

Krum however pulled out of the dive at the last second, sending the Irish Seeker, Lynch, into the ground.

It was a good feint, I'll hand Krum that. However, I think it was something that Harry would do just to get Malfoy off his arse. Malfoy would surely fall for it.

The referee called for a time-out.

"You better do that to Malfoy when it comes to Quidditch," I told Harry.

"You mean Drastic Malfunction?" asked Harry with a grin.

"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie reassured Ginny. Ginny was leaning on the guardrail, looking horrified. He added, "Which is what Krum was after, of course…"

Lynch got to his feet and I cheered because at least he was fine.

After a while, I grew weary and I tried to figure out what Major Malfunction was planning.

He certainly tried to get Ginny killed by giving her Riddle's diary. That had been something he had planned out. Fortunately for Harry, Dobby came to warn us. Maybe he was trying to get into our heads with all that 'while you still can' crap, but still, it bugged me.

"Mikki, look!" said Harry, shaking me out of my thoughts.

The Veela seemed to have lost control. Their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, with long, scaly wings started bursting from their shoulders—

"And that, boys is why you should never go for looks alones!" yelled Mr Weasely.

Mother of Merlin, it was hilarious to see.

Then after the Veela got under control, I had focused on my mission of freeing those peacocks. Someone was going to keep look-out while the other two freed them.

I think I was going to be one of the ones that freed team because I was quieter, due to the Dursleys' mistreatment.

"Look at Lynch!" yelled Harry.

Lynch had gone in a dive.

"He's seen the Snitch! He's seen it! Look at him go!" Harry yelled.

However, Krum was on Lynch's tail. There was flecks of blood flying behind him and both of them were hurtling towards the ground.

"They're going to crash!" Granger shrieked again.

"They're not!" Ron yelled back.

"Lynch is!" Harry yelled.

Lynch hit the ground, again.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie.

"Krum caught the Snitch!" I yelled, while looking through my Omnioculars.

"Yeah, he's got it! It's all over!" Harry yelled.

Krum was holding the Snitch in his fist.

The scoreboard was now flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170.

Bagman seemed stunned, before he shook it off. "Ireland wins! Krum gets the Snitch – but Ireland wins – good Lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" yelled Ron. He was applauding. "He ended it when Ireland was a hundred-and-sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"He knew that they weren't going to be able to catch up!" I said, clapping. "It could've taken hours or days for them to catch up." Matches were known to last for weeks after all.

"Yeah, he knew that the Irish Chasers were too good," said Harry. "He wanted to end it on his term, that's all."

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" asked Granger, looking through her Omnioculars. "He looks a terrible mess…"

I looked to see Krum surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier and refused to let them clean him up. His teammates were around, shaking their heads and looking dejected. However, the Irish players were celebrating while flags were waving all around the stadium with the Irish national anthem played from all sides.