Chapter Two: Quidditch World Cup

Be brave, Evie chanted inwardly as she followed her best friend through the World Cup campsite.

The camp itself was situated in the same stretch of forest as the last one held many years ago—unsurprising, since that's where the arena was.

Evie had already grabbed a bottled butterbeer on her way way in and tarried after Freya Lestrange down the lanterned trail. Freya's bright blonde hair stood out amidst the old, green, and violet banners flying along the paths and over the tops of the tents—gold and green represented the Holyhead Harpies of Wales while a lighter shade of gold and violet were of the Pride of Portree team from Scotland.

Adrenaline rattled Evie's bones with the drums beating in the distance—the music was thrumming, the crowds were lively. Little campsites were already set up in allotted spaces between the tents, droves of families and groups of friends intermingling with food. All manner of magical trinkets flew about between them, carrying the smell of pastries and savory treats. Instruments played themselves as people danced.

Evie and never been to a World Cup before, but if they were all half as exciting as this one, she fully understood the hype.

"How are you not freezing in that?" Freya slowed to Evie's side when she began falling behind. Evie was sporting a light jacket and top, while Freya was all wrapped up in her coat and scarf.

"My father's cold-blooded—that's why they sent him to Azkaban," Evie joked. "Where's our tent, Frey?"

"Just around the corner, here," Freya pointed toward a bend in the path not too far away.

Their tent was a rather large one among the sea of pointed cloth roofs, featuring a forgotten fire pit still spitting sparks just outside the entrance. All around the it, numerous bottles and half-eaten plates had been left out on the grass—abandoned by their owners. As Evie pushed the flap aside and followed Freya further into the tent, she realized that it wasn't tall on the inside, but it stretched much further back than she expected.

There wasn't any particular theme to the array of fabrics draped along the walls. Incense let off curls of smoke that dissipated into the air, couches were strewn everywhere, more bottles of empty butter beer all over the tables. A few green and silver blankets joined the plethora of pillows—an ode to Slytherin.

"You'll have to try harder than that, mate," a familiar male voice cut through the backdrop of the noisy event, sending shudders down Evie's spine.

Be brave.

Striding ahead purposefully, Freya used the sounds of gameplay to navigate deeper into the tent. In one of the sectioned-off corners, a billiard table had been set up.

Except, instead of billard balls, a game of Exploding Snap was in play.

The rules were simple enough: all the cards were laid in a circle with identical ones dealt near the center. The identical cards needed to be tapped with the tip of the player's wand within a limited time frame, or all of the cards would explode.

Several burn marks around the table suggested Evie and Freya had missed multiple rounds of the game.

Evie caught the point of a silver wand that pressed into one of the identical cards, trailing up to Atrius Malfoy's shoulder. Finally, she reached his face.

Be. Brave.

Bent over the edge of the billiard table, he smiled devilishly up at his friend. His silvery hair was tied back, having grown since the last time Evie saw him at Hogwarts. A single strand fell loosely across the side of his face, accentuating the sculpted angle of his jaw, drawing attention to his features. He was wearing his standard black attire, head to toe.

Evie looked away.

She wasn't ready to be brave.

In fact, she could never at Atrius for very long—for the last time they'd made extended eye contact, she'd been sent to the hospital wing immediately after.

Across the billiard table, Oliver Abbott gave Atrius the most fiendish look. Lucretia Lestrange stood off in the corner, and finally, Theseus Prewett leaned against a wooden beam. They were all members pure-blood families positioned around the room, all more than a little acquainted with the Malfoy and Lestrange households. Everyone here was in their ninth year at Hogwarts.

Oliver, with his near-red eyes and hair to match, scowled at Atrius. "You're such a cheat." At that moment, Oliver noticed Evie and Freya. "Well, well—look who finally decided to show up."

Atrius flashed his silver eyes in their direction, jumping from his cousin and hovering over Evie briefly.

She spared him a glance and looked away—just as he made a face like he tasted something sour.

"Don't get distracted," Atrius addressed Oliver sharply. "Get on with it, will you? I'm getting tired of waiting."

"Can't right now—I've got greetings to extend. You girls have a good summer? How about a hug for—"

"No." Freya walked by and slammed Oliver in the stomach, going to give Theseus a hug instead.

Evie smirked as Oliver swiveled his gaze in her direction next. "Come near me, and you'll get seconds." She merely patted him on the shoulder as she walked by, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Atrius as she made for Theseus.

Between Evie's nonchalant walk and Atrius's fixation with the table, Evie couldn't tell which of them was avoiding the other more vehemently.

After setting down Freya, Theseus lifted Evie into a big hug and said, "It's good to see you, Evie!"

"Great to see you, too," Evie answered as she squeezed hard and then pulled back, noticing his slight wince. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"Ah—no, only a bit." He laughed. "You've gotten stronger this summer, haven't you?"

She smiled. "Have I?"

"Who wouldn't? With all that exercising…" Freya muttered under her breath. All eyes turned suspiciously toward the petit Lestrange girl, who quickly noticed it. "What? She's been out and about training. Get your minds out of the gutter."

"Mine wasn't in the gutter," Oliver chimed innocently.

"Training?" Theseus turned back to Evie. "Whatever for?"

"Ah—" Evie hesitated. She meant to answer him—truly, she did. She planned on telling all of them what she'd been training for all summer. But she wasn't ready for this conversation. "Nothing, really."

An explosion saved her at that moment, coming from the billiards table. Evie whirled along with everyone else, finding Atrius brushing off a few black bits of char from his face. He was now standing at his full, lean height, his eyes slicing between the lot of them. "Ran low on patience," he said coolly, grabbing his Slytherin scarf off a nearby chair and throwing it around his neck. "We're leaving, anyhow. They're starting the collections game soon."

"Oh, bugger, that's right!" Theseus exclaimed. "We've got to get there early."

Evie looked at him. "They're starting the what?"

He flashed her a smile. "No time for questions—you'll have to see for yourself."

Out in the middle of the fields, the collections game was a tall, spinning whirlpool of magic with merchandise from both the Pride of Portree and Holyhead Harpies teams.

As the group drew near it, Evie began seeing it beyond the tips of the other tents. It had a glowing white barrier that the others hadn't mentioned.

The company moved toward it in a massive group across the camp, weaving between tents and families sitting about laughing and enjoying their dinners and drinks. Evie did her best to keep to the opposite side of the group from where Atrius was.

When they were close, all the area erupted in an uproar where the game was set up, banners and bells and music invigorating the air. Evie looked past the crowd of people that had assembled, scanning the towering column of trinkets and items floating around each other in a spiral. Magical cords passed through the barrier and caught onto pieces every now and again, pulling them back out.

"Right, here's what we're going to do." Oliver whirled and gathered them all together. Atrius met Evie's eyes briefly as he turned toward the circle, hands in the pockets of his black coat. "We're going to scatter, try to make a show of winning the game—move your arms about and make less space for others near the front of the line. We take the best of the prizes or nothing at all. Wouldn't hurt to 'accidentally' shove others out of the way, if you know what I mean." The group agreed. "Right—let's have a go, then!"

They all scattered immediately, pulling back and spreading throughout the area—looking for fun little and Evie stuck together, just as they always did. "Which one are you going for?" Freya asked over the bustling crowd as she followed Evie, scanning the vortex of merchandise towering into the air. "Hurry up and pick—the best ones will go quickly!"

"There!" Evie pointed to the top of the whirlpool, toward the broomstick with the harpy claw at the blunt end. "I want that one!"

"Ah—immaculate choice," Freya stepped aside to let Evie get as close to the barrier as possible.

Evie stood in front of her and readied herself, standing with her legs spread apart—nice and sturdy, even atop the muddy grass. She held her chestnut wand in her hand, tracking the broom and aiming at it carefully.

"Carpe retract—" Before Evie could finish the spell, another silver cord gripped the broom and pulled it out of the vortex. Evie's jaw dropped, and Freya laughed. The broom went to a little boy on the other side of the crowd.

"Alright—walk it off and try again," Freya patted Evie on the back. "What about those?" The moment she pointed to the bundled up quidditch boots, those were stolen too.

"I'll aim for something higher," Evie said with some annoyance, her confidence wavering. She scanned the remaining trinkets, stopping when she saw a glowing World Cup trophy trinket that no one had managed to snag.

"Carpe rectractum!" She cried out, the spell cascading past the barrier and latching onto it.

Another cord snapped in through the barrier, wrapping around the trophy at the same time.

"What!?" Freya screeched, then they both followed the line down to its owner. A flash of silver— "Oh, shit—"

On the other end of the line, Atrius looked infuriated—searching out the other end of the cord. When he found it, his face went eerily blank, and the weight of Evie's wand felt heavier, all the sounds surrounding her drowning out a bit. Her spell was intertwined with Atrius's.

The last time he'd drawn his wand against her—

Evie could still remember the ashen color of his face. Whatever spell Atrius cast in the Dueling Club two years ago, it was right after she'd disarmed, stunned, and turned him over in front of the entire club. The spell was so abrupt, so out of nowhere—she didn't see it coming. Nor did she anticipate the blood. Though she had fallen to the ground, Evie had never seen the Great Hall empty so quickly, such panic ensuing in its four walls. She remembered little of what happened after, save for waking in the hospital wing.

According to rumors, the incident had nearly cost Atrius his attendance at Hogwarts. He had taken to being cold with her since then—as though the whole thing was her fault.

Evie's palms sweated, the fear clearly written across her features. Meanwhile, Atrius stared.

Be brave, Evie encouraged herself inwardly.

She shook her head, turning her attention back on the trophy and giving it a stubborn tug. There was an surprising pull from the other end as Atrius tugged back. When Evie looked at him, he now wore an expression of great caution. As though he was watching her movements carefully. Another pull on her end was met with the same resounding defiance, and Evie mustered the courage to throw Atrius a seething look across the circle. The one he returned her was utterly unreadable—not a hint of hostility.

Be brave.

Evie moved closer toward the barrier, fighting to get the trophy as she mouthed another spell—confundus.

Atrius's brows shot up—like the wind had carried the word straight to him—and then his feet slipped out from underneath him, throwing him backwards into the grass.

The crowd leapt back to avoid being knocked over, and somewhere across the way, Oliver laughed.

The trophy flew to Evie's hands.

"Yes!" Freya cheered. "Well done, Evie!"

It was the last trinket in the game. And Atrius barely helped himself to his feet before lanterns lit up the pathways between the tents, leading toward the stadium. All heads turned toward them the moment the collections game was over, knowing what it meant: the World Cup was commencing.

Moments, Theseus approached them both from out of the crowd. "At least one of us isn't leaving empty-handed!" The rest of the group slowly converged behind him. "Well done, Evie!"

"I could swear you cheated," Oliver said with a wink.

"Cheat? Me?" Evie smiled wickedly. "Never."

By the time they reached the stadium a cool evening wind had started to pick up. Pockets of clouds moved across the sky—it rarely rained this time of year, but they were a beautiful contrast against the starry panorama.

Their seats weren't quite at the top, but they were very near to it. Just high enough that Evie wouldn't be straining her neck to watch the game for the next few hours.

The stadium lights alone were blinding, never mind the glistening bits of magic reigning down over the scoreboard. An invisible hand scrawled a welcoming message over the scores themselves:

Holyhead Harpies - 00

Pride of Portree - 00

The metal railing was cold as Evie leaned over it and looked out at the crowds of people, amazed at how immensely vast the arena was.

Wind whipped her honey-colored hair as a figure appeared at her side, bumping into her. Evie's heart nearly seized when she realized it was Atrius, bumping into her again as he turned to order Oliver to leave Lucretia and Freya alone.

She slid away from him instantly, putting more space between them than was probably necessary.

Calming her racing heart, she found it pounded faster than the wings of the golden snitch.


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