Previously: Everybody is excited for the Quidditch World Cup. Alice has changed her hair again. Marlene gives Alice and Lily their Dissimulators.


Chapter 46: The Rudest Quidditch Game of All Time

The roaring cheers of the crowd that met James as his family and Sirius approached the stadium were thousands of times louder than any noise the Quidditch spectators at Hogwarts could ever hope to produce. And that was just the shouting. By now, every single person carried a Dissimulator with them, including James and the rest of his family. The puffs of smoke in either Syrian or Madagascan colors and the cries of support the Dissimulators emitted only served to add to the pandemonium that surrounded the stadium, both inside and out.

Of course, James and Sirius had finally been told the real reason behind the Dissimulators, but that little piece of information only served to further their excitement.

As their group approached the entrance to the stadium, James could spot the dozens of little tables where security officers dressed in official ICWQC robes ran their wands over both belongings and individuals, searching for any dangerous objects, carry-in potions, and of course, the wands that were supposed to be banned from the stadium. James spotted several eyeing the Dissimulators with dislike, but since there were no rules against them, the security officers were forced to allow wizards and witches take the objects with them.

When the Potters' turn came, every single one of them passed the security check with flying colors, and James happily scooped up his very own Dissimulator, honking it a couple times for good measure, before following his parents through the stadium doors.

"Top Box?" asked one female ICWQC official, checking their tickets when Mrs. Potter handed them to her. She was no older than twenty, but she still kept the professional tone as she pointed them towards the lifts off to the side while the majority of the crowd simply filtered into the regular-priced sections. "The farthest lift on the left should take you to the right place."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Potter graciously before herding the rest of her family along with a, "Follow me, boys."

It took them a little bit to navigate their way through the crowd, but the four of them managed to reach the area that held the lifts without much difficulty. Thankfully, the lifts were much less crowded, and when Mr. Potter ushered them into the lift the ICQWC person had told them to take, it was only them and an important-looking Japanese couple jabbering away in a foreign language that James could not even begin to comprehend. Mrs. Potter closed the door behind them, and the lift took no more than ten second to fly all of them up to the top level.

When the doors finally opened, the Japanese couple who, from the sound of it, must have been arguing about something exited first, barely looking at James's group, and the four of them exited the lift as quickly as they could.

Upon exit, they were greeted by yet another ICQWC official, though this person was a middle-aged warlock and had a much gruffer demeanor than the woman who had initially pointed them to the lifts. As James's group approached, the man narrowed his eyes at the Dissimulators and said shortly, "The seat letter is the row, and the seat number is how far in the row you go."

He offered up no other help, leaving the Potter family to find their own seats. About half the Top Box was already full, but thankfully their row only had two other people currently seated, who took up the spots at the very end. James was surprised by how good their seats were – third row back and right next to the five seats that, due to their position and cushioned chairs that normally were not found in Quidditch stadiums, must have been reserved for five very important people. James was a bit jealous that they had plenty of leg room (there were no seats in front of them despite being several rows back), but he quickly swallowed that and shuffled his way to his seat with his parents and Sirius in tow.

"Who d'you suppose gets those five seats?" whispered Sirius as he took the seat next to James.

"The three seats in the middle are for the leaders of each team's government as well as Australia's Minister for Magic, the one on the far right is for Australia's Minister of Magical Media – they're like our head of Department of Magical Games and Sports – and the last seat to the left will be for Royston Idlewind," explained Mr. Potter, and James could clearly hear the dislike in his father's words when he spoke Idlewind's name.

"Fleamont, mind your tone!" shushed Mrs. Potter, glancing around to ensure that nobody else had heard, though James did not know why she cared considering that she too held a Dissimulator in her hand.

James was about to say exactly that when he was momentarily distracted by the small group of people sitting in the very front row – in particular, a girl with very familiar dark red hair that had been partly pulled back with a flapping butterfly clip. The Top Box at the Quidditch World Cup would have been the last place he expected to see her, but despite his disbelieving eyes, he had to be sure.

"Evans?" he asked, loud enough for the people with the front row to hear.

The girl visibly froze and after a few seconds turned around to face him, revealing that it was indeed Lily Evans.

James felt his stomach do a gymnastics routine as Lily stared at him with her bright green eyes, clearly as shocked to see him as he was to see her. Beside her sat another girl, who James had not recognized as Alice at first because she had once again decided to change her hairdo, this time straightening her locks that she still had colored a dark brown as opposed to the natural blond. Alice did not look quite as startled as her friend, but she still raised a surprised eyebrow at the sight of him and Sirius. Beside her, Alice's parents were only mildly interested in the exchange, though James could still tell that they were listening.

"What are you two doing here?" asked Lily with a frown, looking back and forth between him and Sirius, who did not seem quite as pleased with their present company as James was.

James shrugged and said with an easy grin, "Same as you, I guess – we're both here to see the Quidditch World Cup."

He was uncomfortably aware that his parents were carefully watching the exchange from just one seat away, and all the things James would have liked to say never left his tongue for fear of the embarrassment it would have caused him with his parents, particularly his mother, who made it her business to ensure that their entire family always presented themselves in the best light possible – and James highly doubted the casual flirting would have passed her strict and traditional tests for appropriate behavior.

"So," started James, searching for a subject that his mother would not find offensive, "How's your summer been?"

From Lily's calculating gaze, she must have deduced that James's parents' presence was the only reason he had not already asked her out to Hogsmeade along with making several of the usual comments he made. The glint in her eyes told James that she still had not budged on her less-than-friendly attitude towards him, but for the sake of his parents, she kept a civil but distant front.

"Rather quiet," admitted Lily.

"Friend of yours, Jamie?" inquired his mother. Mrs. Potter must not have been able to hold back her curiosity any longer as she gazed at Lily, not sure what to make of the girl.

James opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Glancing back at Lily, he could see that she was thinking along the same lines. Their relationship had changed many times throughout their years at Hogwarts: to James, Lily had been a rival most of the time, an ally during other moments, a confidant very briefly, and more recently the receiver of James's fixation. To Lily, James knew that despite how he hoped Lily harbored feelings for him deep down, he could be a real Tentacula spike in her side sometimes – aside from the occasional times the circumstances forced her to team up with him.

No. Neither had ever thought of the other as a friend.

"Uh…" started James, but that was the only noise he made as he searched desperately for a response to give his mother.

"We're housemates," Lily answered quickly, saving James the trouble of making an even bigger fool of himself than he already had in front of his parents. "At Hogwarts, that is – we're both in Gryffindor together."

James shot her a grateful look and was just about to agree with her when Sirius decided to cut in and make the meeting even more awkward than it already was – and given that it was Sirius Black, it was awkward.

"James likes Evans; Evans hates James; James still wants to take Evans out to Hogsmeade to snog her senseless; she doesn't like that he wants to take her out to Hogsmeade to snog her senseless; they have some spectacular fights about him wanting to take her out to Hogsmeade to snog her senseless – so no, they're not friends," stated Sirius quite plainly.

"Sirius," hissed James, sending his friend a warning look while in front of them, Lily's cheeks flooded with color, and she glanced down to avoid any eye contact with Mr. and Mrs. Potter. Beside her, Alice glared at Sirius on her friend's behalf, but the damage was already done.

"Oh," was Mrs. Potter's only reply after several moments of silence.

At that, Lily flushed even deeper until her cheeks matched the color of her hair and failed to say anything that might give Mr. and Mrs. Potter a better impression than what Sirius had given just them. James could also feel his face heat up too as he watched his mother's gears whirl and turn around in her head. Thankfully, they were both spared from thinking of an adequate response when the five people for whom the reserved seats were meant for stepped into the Top Box.

At first, James did not really bother with the visitors because he decided to use the distraction to elbow Sirius and furiously mutter, "What was that for?"

Sirius gave an innocent shrug – though he was far from innocent in James's book – and whispered back, "What? I said I wouldn't do anything so long as she doesn't do anything I don't like – and I didn't like that."

"But you still didn't have to say anything in the first place," grumbled James, turning his attention to the five people who had now seated themselves in the reserved seats.

It was easy to tell which of the three countries the people in the middle seats represented: the man farthest from them was close to Mr. Potter's age but of Arab descent and wore a rich red robe with gold and silver embroidery – the Presidential Sorcerer of Syria, Fareed Zaman (while discussing what the people from other countries might be like, Remus had said the robes were called kaftans and were the traditional clothes for Syrian wizards); the black woman sitting closet to them was dressed in colorfully printed robes that included a triangular striped cloth with Malagasy colors wrapped around her shoulders (Mrs. Potter had explained beforehand that her name was Sekai Madaki, Madagascar's President of Magic and a diehard Quidditch fan), and the man in the middle, a younger wizard who looked to be a little over thirty and wore the kind of dress robes James was much more familiar with – he had to be Australia's Minister for Magic, Asher Lee.

Royston Idlewind was easy to recognize because James had seen his picture in many Daily Prophet articles that covered the controversial wand ban Idlewind had put in place – salt and pepper hair with stately robes and a frame that looked like it had once belonged to an athlete who now spent too much time behind a desk. James felt a rush of dislike towards Idlewind and judging from the looks his father and Sirius were giving the guy, they too were not feeling so kindly towards him. James eagerly propped his own Dissimulator up on his knee, anxiously awaiting the signal they had been instructed to wait for.

The person in the last seat was an Aboriginal woman who, as Mr. Potter had explained earlier, was Cardinia Nicholls, Minister of Magical Media. Of the group of five, she was the only one who dressed like she was going to a Quidditch game – Nicholls wore an Australian National Quidditch Team jersey with the Syrian flag painted on one cheek and the Malagasy flag painted on the other. James found the clashing rather amusing, but at least nobody could accuse her of favoring one team over the other.

Nicholls stood up, and James could see every one of her pearly whites as she smiled at Australia's Minister for Magic and said, "Ready to begin, Minister?"

From his spot, Asher Lee gave a somber nod, and James could not help but wonder what was wrong with Minister Lee to not look the least bit excited that he got to witness the Quidditch World Cup final from – literally – the best spot in the house.

Nicholls hardly let Lee's lack of enthusiasm curb her own, and with a quiet whisper of "Sonorus" with her wand discreetly pointed at her neck, she started yelling for the whole stadium to hear:

"Wizards and witches, it is my greatest pleasure to welcome you to the final match of the 417th Quidditch World Cup!" announced Nicholls's magically amplified voice.

Roaring cheers and honking Dissimulators met Nicholls's announcement, and even though James knew that any sane person would plug their ears to muffle the uproar, he was too excited to bother with that. Instead, James screamed along with the crowd and gave several honks with his own Dissimulator. Idlewind looked annoyed by the noise, but that only increased his own excitement.

"It has been a long time coming, but the today is the day that will decide who will win the 1974 World Cup. Will it be the swift and clever Malagasy Quidditch Team?" – Cheers erupted from the Malagasy side – "Or perhaps the resiliency and pure strength of the Syrians will win in the end." – Here, Nicholls's voice was nearly drowned out by the Syrians' deafening screams – "But first, before we get our first look at the players, let's welcome the Syrian National Quidditch Team's mascots!"

"What do you think they'll bring, Mum?" asked James, having to shout to make his voice heard. He knew that as the former Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Mrs. Potter was an expert on magical beasts and their native ranges.

"They usually – oh, you can see them now, Jaime! Griffins!" yelled Mrs. Potter, pointing up to a spot on the east side of the stadium. James followed his mother's line of sight, not needing to search hard before he found the Syrian mascots.

Syria could not have picked better creatures to amaze the assembled crowds. The beasts' front halves resembled an eagle: sharp beaks that glowed under the lighting, bronze feathers that ruffled lightly in the wind as the griffins twisted and turned in the air, and smooth, powerful front legs that ended in wickedly gleaming talons that the griffins held close to their body as they sped through the stadium. Their movements were awe-inspiring, speeding through the air with a fluidity and grace that James knew he would never be able to achieve on a simple broomstick. As one of the griffins flew over the Top Box, it let loose a powerful, ear-splitting screech that made James's hair stand up on its end.

"I didn't think that griffins could be domesticated," yelled James as he clapped along with the rest of the crowd.

Mrs. Potter shook her head and replied in an equally loud voice, "They can't. Griffins are a lot like phoenixes and unicorns in that respect – they're incredibly powerful and generally shun other creatures they consider beneath them. Usually the wizards who try to control griffins either end up maimed or dead, but there are a small handful of skilled witches and wizards who have befriended griffins."

"Then how did Syria end up with three griffins on their payroll?" wondered Sirius.

"Apparently a couple of Syrians rescued some baby griffins from poachers in the 1800s, and their little family has been the Syrian mascots ever since," answered Mrs. Potter, never once taking her eyes off the magnificent creatures. James guessed that since Mrs. Potter had dedicated her life to studying magical creatures, his mother was memorizing every little detail of the griffins that she could. "Thankfully, the Syrian griffins are some of the most well-treated creatures I've come across. Unlike most mascots, who are kept confined to one place, the Syrians allow the griffins to roam free and only ask for their help when they're needed."

"Wait – then how do the Syrians contact them?"

"Oh, griffins are much like humans in that way. Their families generally live in one place, and even though it's common for griffins to leave for some period of time, they almost always return home at one point or another," said Mrs. Potter. She looked like she wanted to say more, but she decided against shouting over the announcement of the Malagasy mascots and turned her attention back to Nicholls.

"And now for the pride of Madagascar – the Kalanoro!" shouted Nicholls, turning to the opposite side of the stadium.

The entrance of the Malagasy mascots was not quite as memorable as the grand entrance of the Syrian griffins, but that did not make the Kalanoro any less interesting. A small group of them – no more than ten – suddenly emerged from the behind a curtain colored as a Malagasy flag at the base of the stadium. Tiny apes, the tallest of whom did not even reach three feet, scattered the moment they were out in the open, some leaping into the stadium while others scuttled up the stadium to where many fans sat and cheered.

Unlike the Syrians, who had chosen to showcase their griffins in a grandiose, awe-inspiring light, the Madagascar team had chosen to take a more light-hearted route. The Kalanoro in the stands darted through the crowds, scrunching their faces in concentration as they traded off stare downs with individual spectators, and James was not sure whether the purpose was supposed to be thoughtful or comical. Since the rest of the crowds laughed, James shrugged and chuckled right alongside them. Beside him, his mother was simply trying to get a better view of the creatures to satisfy the Magizoologist in her heart.

After spending a fair amount of bonding time with some of the fans, the Kalanoro leaped down onto the stadium where they started to twist and turn in an amazing feat of acrobatics until they formed a shape opposite the griffins from Syria, and it took James and the rest of the crowd a moment to realize what gesture they were making.

The Kalanoro had formed a perfect copy of the middle finger, directly facing the Syrians.

The crowd roared with laughter, even some of those rooting for Syria, while the griffins gave indignant screeches, flapping their wings and kicking their front legs as their talons flashed dangerously in the sun. Several wizards and witches dress in Malagasy robes raced forward to separate the Kalanoro, leading James to believe that the gesture was not planned, and it did not take long for the gesture to dissipate as the Kalanoro took up their allotted space on the field.

"If this is what the Malagasy mascots are like before there are any fouls against the teams, I think we'll be in for a real treat once the game gets started," whispered Sirius excitedly, and James nodded in agreement.

"Well, at least we will not wonder what the Madagascar team's feelings are when there is a goal or foul," joked Nicholls good-naturedly. "And now, for the teams. From Syria, we have Captain Amira Zaman, Hashim Ali, Ravi Kader, the twins Nadir and Nadia Attar, Jalal Mullur, and Karima Singh."

The seven Syrian players took off at speeds so fast they were simply blurs racing around the stadium, almost as graceful as their mascots. The only identifying marker James could see was that one of the women had chosen to wear a hijab whose colors blended in flawlessly with the rest of her Quidditch attire. The other two women and the men all had dark hair that, combined with their incredible speed and identical Quidditch robes, made them indistinguishable from each other.

The Syrians roared with approval as their team circled the stadium, pumping their fists and rallying their fans while the griffins screeched and reared their front legs. Even as the team shot off to their starting positions, the crowd refused to die down.

"And representing the Malagasy team, I give you Captain Aldrich Lambert, Gabriel Berger, Lesidi Favreau, Tadala Dufort, Zola Palomer, Amadi Bello, and Dejen Diallo."

The players took off one at a time as their names were announced, every bit as quick and graceful as the Syrian team. James studied them carefully through his omnioculars, and they were just as impressive up close as they were from far away. The fans screamed as the Malagasy team performed their circle around the stadium, frantically waving fists and Madagascar's flag while honking their Dissimulators wildly. The Kalanoro did several backflips and other acrobatic feats as the Malagasy team took up positions opposite the Syrian team.

"And let's not forget to give a kind welcome to Diana Burns, the referee for this match," said Nicholls politely as a small figure entered the field dressed in golden-yellow robes to set her apart from the two teams, holding a broomstick in one hand and carrying a large crate with her other hand. Some clapping accompanied Nicholls's announcement, but James could tell that most of the crowd was just waiting for the game to start.

Thankfully, Burns did not waste much time. She strode right to the middle of the field and placed the crate before kicking it open. On cue, two Bludgers rocketed forward, zooming around with much more force and speed than any of the Bludgers at Hogwarts could ever have while James was just able to spot the flash of gold that was the Snitch before it zoomed away. The only ball remaining was the Quaffle, which Burns bent down to pick up. Looking between the teams, she said something that James could not hear before she released the Quaffle into the air to begin the game.


Okay, okay, okay. I know that many of you would absolutely love to hear about the Quidditch game. I know – I would too if I were you. However, no matter what I did, I just could – not – write – anything – good. I promise that I tried – I really did. That several year hiatus that I took to rewrite this entire story? Let's just say that I kept coming back to this, but even in what I thought were moments of inspiration (and I tried taking breaks from this part too), no matter what I did, I just could not write anything. So I finally gave up and decided to end it here. I'm sorry, I really am. But for some reason this just stumped me.

The clothing I have the Syrian and Malagasy leaders wearing is more traditional and from older times because J.K. Rowling said that wizard clothing has largely remained the same since the Wizarding community went into hiding after the International Statute of Secrecy. Though if I made a mistake concerning any of that, I apologize. I had only the Internet, and we all know how reliable that is.

I know that I changed the timing of the Dissimulators, but this just seemed to fit better.