Chapter 49 - The Quidditch Final, Part 2
Ludo Bagman charged into the top box and straight to Minister Fudge and the Bulgarian Minister. "Everyone ready?" He asked excitedly, "Minister, ready to go?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo." Fudge replied happily. Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands. "Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!" The crowd went wild! Including all of us in the box, we all cheered happily as Bagman tried to continue. "And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce... the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!" I point my Omnioculers towards the right side where I around a hundred woman come onto the field. They were all beautiful, of course, they were Veela's, my great grandmother, and Izabella Rosseau-Hyde was a Veela. A Veela's power is that they are able to charm any man so when they start dancing all the men in the booth are practically hanging over the rails in front of us to watch them, including Cedric much to my annoyance, apart from Amos and Arthur, who have wisely taken off their glasses so they can't see and Abe, who isn't affected.
"Why aren't you acting like these numpties?" Cho askes him as I stand up and pull Harry and Cedric while Hermione does the same with Ron away from the edge as they start dangling dangerously over the rails.
"We're an eight Veela so they don't bother any of us and if Ash or Allie wanted, they could learn the seduction that full Veela's have naturally." Abe explains.
"It would come in handy now." I mutter while I wrestle Cedric back into his seat after I've pulled Harry's glasses off. The music stopped and the dancers disappeared causing the crowd, at least the males, boo and jeer.
"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air... for the Irish National Team Mascots!" Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd ooo'ed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it...
"Excellent!" yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Looking up at the shamrock with my Omnioculers, I could see it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.
"Leprechauns!" Cried Arthur happily.
"There you go," Ron yelled happily, stuffing a fistful of gold coins into Harry's hand, "for the Omnioculers! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!"
"You muppet Ron, it's Leprechaun Gold, it'll disappear soon." I giggled at his scowling face.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome — the Bulgarian
National Quidditch Team! I give you — Dimitrov!" Cried Bagman. A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.
"Ivanova!"
A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.
"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand — Krum!"
"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculers.
"He's good looking." Cho giggled and she focused in her Omnioculers, I did the same.
"I suppose so, but I bet he's as intelligent as a Troll. Not my type." I declared, sneaking a subtle look at Ced who was smiling approvingly.
"And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting — Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand —Lynch!" Seven green blurs swept onto the field from the opposite tunnel as I focused I noticed what brooms all the Irish team were on.
"Can you see Harry?! They have Firebolts! Like us! Woooo! Go Ireland!" I cried giddily. The twins joined me in my chant as the three of us wanted them to win... badly.
"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed chair wizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!" Continued Ludo Bagman. A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a moustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the moustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open — four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.
"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!" That's when the game started, it was Quidditch but harder to follow than a normal game, probably because they were all moving so fast and the best players in the world, they weren't in the final for nothing. Bagman barely had time to say the names of the players with the quaffle before they passed it to another player. Ireland was the first to score, the magnificent Moran launched a Quaffle into the middle hoop. The match restarted and became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.
"Fingers in your ears!" bellowed Arthur as the veela started to dance in celebration. The boys all did as they were told and opened there eyes after they had finished. Bulgaria had the Quaffle while Bagman caught up with his commentating.
"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova — oh I say!" roared Bagman. One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the centre of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes.
"They're going to crash!" screamed Hermione next to Harry.
"Pull up! Pull up, Lynch!" I screamed in vain at the Irish seeker, Hermione was half right — at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiralled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats as I launched myself from my chair and leaned against the rails with my Omnioculers pointed down at the pitch.
"Fool!" moaned Mr. Weasley. "Krum was feinting!"
"Damn him! That was a brilliant Wronski Fient. Come on Lynch, shake it off!" I cried.
"Shake off a crash to the floor, because you and Harry do that so well." Fred called over sarcastically, I stuck my tongue out at him.
"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"
"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box next to me, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course..." Lynch struggled but finally got back onto his feet, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivalled by anything Harry had seen so far. After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her with his elbows flying to stop Mullet from scoring which an illegal move is called Cobbing so the crowd cried angrily simultaneously and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told everyone it was a foul.
"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing - excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And — yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!" The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!" The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again. The boys in the box stuffed their fingers in their ears to stop getting distracted unfortunately not everyone in the stand was so lucky. Hermione, Ginny and I lapsed into giggles when we noticed the referee Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his moustache excitedly.
"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!" A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself. I nudged Cedric and pointed it out making him laugh. The referee looked so embarrassed making it even funnier then he decided to have the Veela's removed from the pitch.
"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before... Oh this could turn nasty..." It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.
"Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms... yes... there they go... and Troy takes the Quaffle..." Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.
"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green.
"Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran — deliberately flying to collide there — and it's got to be another penalty — yes, there's the whistle!" The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. It was definitely exciting to watch with the faces the Veela's were currently pulling, I wasn't sure it was so good for me to put part Veela, but it could be kinda cool if I could to the fire thing.
"And that, boys," yelled Arthur over the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never go for looks alone!" The game went on while Bagman continued his commentating and the ministry officials tried to split up the mascots.
"Levski — Dimitrov — Moran — Troy — Mullet — Ivanova — Moran again — Moran — MORAN SCORES!" Cried Bagman. But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians. The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov — The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face. There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. Poor Krum, you couldn't really blame the poor bloke for being a bit distracted, the Veela's had gone nuts and had managed to set Krum's beautiful broom on fire at the tail.
"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him —" Ron was obviously outraged at his favourite players injury but he didn't have time to stop.
"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled. For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and Harry was quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing. . . . "He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"
"GO KRUM GO!" I cried as I stood and leaned over the bar to get a good look, my mind on the bet me and the twins had put on. Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on... but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, Harry had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again.
"They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione.
"They're not!" roared Ron.
"Lynch is!" yelled Harry. And he was right — for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.
"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, along the row.
"He's got it — Krum's got it — it's all over!" shouted Harry.
"What's the score?!" I cried before looking up at the board. BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170.
"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. I screamed happily and jumped around.
"GO IRELAND! WOOOO!" The twins joined me in my happy dance as we had all won that bet.
"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH — BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!" Bagman continued.
"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"
"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harry shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good... He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all..."
"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess..."
"That has to be the best match I've ever seen." I spoke animatedly with Cedric.
"I think all the Hogwarts teams that watched this game might have got ideas, I hope our matches will be as good this year." Ced replied grinning, just as I heard Charlie chuckle behind us.
"What?" I asked him suspiciously.
"Nothing, nothing. You'll find out when you get back to Hogwarts." He replied with a smile on his face saying he knew something we didn't know.
"Charlie." Arthur reprimanded him, he knew something too.
"What do you know?" My eyes narrowed as Charlie put his hand up innocently.
"I knew I shouldn't have told you, Charlie." Arthur muttered. "It doesn't matter, you'll find out about when you get back to Hogwarts. Now how much money have you just won, you should be celebrating."
"I will find out." I promised him grinning before turning back to Ced before over hearing the Bulgarian minister.
"Vell, ve fought bravely," said the gloomy voice of the Bulgarian minister.
"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"
"Vell, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian minister, shrugging. I burst into giggles before the minister sent a wink at me.
"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honour, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" roared Bagman. The Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. At the entrance we could see two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.
"Oh my gosh, we get to see both teams up close." I hissed grinning.
"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers — Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted. And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch and when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, ear-splitting roar. I clapped politely and smiled and the dazed looking boy.
And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. All of us in the box were cheering again.
"GO IRELAND!" Me and Ced cried and cheered for them, we get grins from the team. At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honour on their brooms Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered "Quietus. They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, probably from all his commentating, he'd been over used his voice, "a really unexpected twist, that... shame it couldn't have lasted longer... Ah yes... yes, I owe you... how much?"
For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched. Of course, I followed quickly and did the same smirking.