Bagman and Crouch

Dean laughed loudly as he hauled Sam to his feet. 'Graceful,' he said.

'Shut up, Dean,' Sam said grumpily, adjusting his backpack.

John got up and looked around. They appeared to have arrived on a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch and the other a thick roll of parchment. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly; the man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length boots; his colleague, a kilt and poncho.

'Morning, Basil,' said Mr Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys behind him.

'Hello, there, Arthur,' said Basil wearily. 'Not on duty, eh? 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… Weasley… Weasley…' He consulted his parchment list. 'Yes, here we are. Weasley, Holmes and Winchester, 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, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.

They set of across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small, stone cottage swam into view. Beyond it, they could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field towards a dark wood on the horizon. They said goodbye to the Diggorys, and approached the cottage door.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

'Morning!' Mr Weasley said brightly.

'Morning,' said the man who appeared to be the only Muggle around the campsite.

'Would you be Mr Roberts?'

'Aye, I would,' said Mr Roberts. 'And who're you?'

'Weasley, Holmes and Winchester – four tents booked a couple of days ago?'

'Aye,' said Mr Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. 'You've got a space up by the woods there. Just the one night?'

'That's it,' said Mr Weasley.

'You'll be paying now, then?'

'Ah – right – certainly –' Mr Weasley retreated a short distance from the cottage. 'Help me, Dean,' he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart.

'Uh, I'm not so great with the pounds,' said Dean. 'Dollars are more my speed.'

'Here,' said John, stepping forward, 'let me help.'

'So this one's a – a – a ten? Ah, yes, I see the little number on it now… so this is a five?'

'A twenty,' John corrected gently.

'Ah, yes, so it is… I don't know these little bits of paper…'

'You foreign?' said Mr Roberts, as Mr Weasley returned with the correct notes.

'Foreign?' repeated Mr Weasley, confused.

'You're not the first one who's had trouble with money. I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps earlier.'

'Did you really?' Mr Weasley said nervously.

Mr Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change. 'Never been this crowded,' he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field. 'Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up…'

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

'Aye,' he said thoughtfully. 'People from all over. Loads of foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There's a bloke walking around in a kilt and poncho.'

'Shouldn't he?'

'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.'

At that moment, a wizard in baggy trousers and suspenders appeared out of thin air next to Mr Roberts's front door. 'Obliviate!' he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr Roberts.

Sherlock flinched and recoiled from the spell.

Mr Roberts's eyes slid out of focus and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. 'A map of the campsite for you,' he said placidly to Mr Weasley. 'And your change.'

'Thanks very much,' said Mr Weasley.

The wizard in baggy trousers accompanied them towards the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted with deep, purple shadows under his eyes. Once out of earshot of Mr Roberts, he muttered to Mr Weasley, 'Been having 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 all over. See you later, Arthur.' He Disapparated.

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

'He should,' said Mr Weasley, smiling and leading them through the gate, 'but 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.'

They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but slipped up by adding chimneys, or weather-vanes. Others were so clearly magical that it was no wonder Mr Roberts was getting suspicious. One even looked like a miniature palace, complete with several live peacocks tethered outside.

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

They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, where there was an empty space and three small signs that read, 'Holmes', 'Weezly', and 'Winchester'.

'Couldn't have a better spot!' Mr Weasley said happily. 'The pitch is just on the other side of the woods here, we're as close as we could be.'

They all dropped their bags to the ground and got started on erecting their tents. Sam and Dean appeared to have done it many times before, and their tent was up within minutes so they moved on to help Mr Weasley with both of his.

Sherlock's, on the other hand, was self-building. All he had to do was unpack it and set it on the ground, then it was up within the blink of an eye.

'It's the only one we have,' he said at Mr Weasley's disapproving look.

All four of the tents looked perfectly ordinary from the outside, and John wondered how all the Weasley boys and Harry could possibly fit in one of the small tents.

Mr Weasley bent down to enter the tent. 'We'll be a bit cramped,' he called, 'but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look.'

John bent down, ducked under the flap, and felt his jaw drop. They had walked into an old-fashioned, three-roomed flat with a bathroom and kitchen, and a strong smell of cats.

'Well, it's not for long,' said Mr Weasley, peering at the four bunk-beds that had been squeezed into the bedroom. 'I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago.' He picked up a dusty kettle and looked inside it. 'We'll need water…'

'There's a tap marked on this map that the Muggle gave us,' said Ron, who had come in behind them. 'It's on the other side of the field.'

'Why don't you, Harry and Hermione get some water, then-' Mr Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans, '-and some of us will get some firewood.'

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

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

They took a tour of the girls' tent which was smaller but without the smell of cats, then moved onto the Winchesters' tent. Inside was smaller than the Weasley's, but seemed to be more comfortable. There were only two rooms, one being a small bathroom with a shower. The other contained the kitchen, a table with chairs, two single beds up against one wall, and a third that it snugly in an alcove in another wall.

'What d'ya think?' Dean asked Cas proudly. 'Oh, wait. Sam, pass me that bag.'

Sam threw a bag over to Dean and he pulled out some thick, black material. He hung it over the entrance of the alcove, blocking the bed from view. 'Okay, now what do you think?'

Cas smiled and put his bag beside the alcove. 'It's nice,' he said.

'Yeah we practically lived in this thing before we moved here,' Dean told them. 'I definitely prefer Hogwarts.'

Next, they went over to Sherlock's tent. The inside was huge, with two bedrooms containing lush double beds, wardrobes and bedside tables. There was also a living room filled with books and deep squashy armchairs. The kitchen was large and fully equipped, and the dining room had a long, fancy table that was already set up for ten people.

'This is a bit much, isn't it?' John asked, watching Ron walk around with his mouth hanging open.

'My family doesn't go camping,' said Sherlock, 'so I'll repeat: this is the only one we have.'

John shrugged, and everyone filtered out of Sherlock's tent, leaving just the two of them.

Sherlock then led John to one of the bedrooms. 'This one's yours,' he said. 'Try to get some sleep. I'll wake you when Bill, Charlie and Percy arrive.'

'Sounds good to me,' said John, sighing as he sunk into the soft bed. 'Thanks.'

Sherlock smiled and left John to sleep. He sat down outside and leaned against the tent.

Cas was helping organise the Winchesters' things inside their tent.

'I want to go for a walk, you guys want to come?' Dean asked, dusting his hands off once he dumped the last bag down.

'Nah, I'll stay here and help Mr Weasley,' said Sam, exiting the tent.

'Cas?'

'I'll walk.' He turned around to adjust the curtain hiding his bed and Dean gasped.

'Cas, you're bleeding!' he said, alarmed.

'What?' Cas pulled his coat off and said, 'Damn,' at the blood that had seeped through his shirt, beige sweater vest and his coat.

'What happened?'

'I don't know. Maybe it happened when I fell after we took the Portkey.'

'Well here, let me take a look at it.' He reached out and touched the hem of Cas's shirt, but he jerked away.

'No, don't,' he said hastily. 'It's fine. Let me just change shirts and we can go.' He disappeared behind the curtain.

'Are you sure it's okay?' Dean said worriedly.

'Yes, Dean, it doesn't hurt. It is a shame about this shirt, though.' He emerged wearing a fresh, indigo jumper. 'I bandaged it. It shouldn't leak now.'

'Well… let's go then, I guess.'

By now, the sun had lifted itself just above the horizon and the mist was dissipating.

'This is my favourite time of day,' said Cas.

'Yeah, it's a little cold for me, though. Aren't you cold?'

'I live on a mountain, Dean. Cold is relative.'

Dean chuckled.

As they walked, people began emerging from their tents to cook breakfast. Some were attempting to light their fires the Muggle way, while others looked around furtively and conjured flames with their wands.

There were many different languages flying around, and Castiel was quite happy to listen to it as they walked, but Dean slowed to a stop, squinting. He was looking at a group of witches that were sitting between two tents, with a banner strung between them that read: The Salem Witches Institute.

'Jo?' Dean called.

A pretty blonde girl turned around and smiled brightly. 'Dean!' she shouted, waving. She and a few of the other witches came over to them.

'How's domestic life treating you these days?' she asked.

'You know how it is,' said Dean. 'Not quite as exciting as slogging around the country for months on end, but we got a nice place and Sam likes it, so it's not so bad.'

'Jo, who're your friends?' one of the witches asked, coming over quite giggly.

'Oh, this is Dean Winchester. He's like, my oldest friend.'

'Dean Winchester? No way!'

'And who's this?' another blonde witch asked, stepping closer to Cas. 'He's cute.'

'That's very nice of you,' Cas mumbled, looking anywhere but at her.

'This is Cas,' said Dean. 'A friend of mine from school. Cas, this is Jo Harvelle.'

'Hi, Cas,' said Jo.

'It's nice to meet you,' Cas said politely, shaking her hand.

'He's – skinny.'

'Come on, Jo, the Ilvermorny boys will be here soon!' one of the witches who had stayed by the tents called.

'Well, I'd better go. Wouldn't want to miss the Ilvermorny boys,' Jo said, flashing Dean a mischievous grin.

'Yeah, better not miss that,' Dean laughed. 'Come visit us in the summer, okay?'

'Sure.' Jo smiled again, and the blonde witch blew Cas a kiss, before they all hurried back to their tent.

Cas and Dean continued walking, admiring the elaborate tents that they passed.

'I meant to ask, how are your scars doing?' said Cas.

'They pull when I bend, but other than that, they're fine.'

'You haven't been putting the potion on it like I told you to, have you?'

'What? No, of course I have,' Dean said in a spluttery voice that would have convinced no one.

Cas rolled his eyes. 'You have no sense of self-preservation at all, do you?'

'That's ridiculous, of course I do.'

'Excuse me, but who was it that jumped on a fully-grown werewolf not two months ago?'

'Come on, man, it wasn't that-'

'Cassie! Cassie!' A little boy of about six came running towards them.

All the worry and weariness that Dean had assumed were just part of Castiel's features fell away.

'Alfie!' he said happily, picking the boy up. 'You're so big!'

The boy called Alfie suddenly buried his head in the crook of Castiel's neck.

'What is it?' Cas asked gently.

Alfie pointed at Dean.

'It's okay. This is Dean. He goes to my school.'

'Oh. Is he your boyfriend?' Alfie asked.

Cas blushed and Dean laughed. 'No, he's just a friend.'

'That's sad,' said Alfie. 'He'd make a good boyfriend. He's pretty.'

Cas turned even more red.

'Well thanks, little fella. You know, you're pretty too,' Dean said.

'Alfie, come back here!' another voice called. A red-haired girl of around fifteen ran over to them. 'I'm so sorry, he gets really clingy sometimes-' She cut herself off and looked at them for a moment. 'Castiel, is that you?'

'Yes, it's me,' said Cas, lowering Alfie to the ground.

'You're a lot taller than I remember,' she said, hugging him. 'And skinnier.'

'It's good to see you, Anna,' said Cas.

Dean cleared his throat.

'Yes, sorry. This is my friend Dean. Dean, these are my cousins Alfie and Anna.'

'Nice to meet you,' said Dean.

'Where are Raphael and Balthazar?' Cas asked, looking behind Anna.

'Dad went on a fishing trip, but Raphael's in our tent. He's not happy about being here,' she said with a sly smile.

'That sounds like him.'

'I didn't know you were coming to this, how'd you swing it with your dad?'

'I have to take over Gabriel's dish duty for a week.'

'Really? You know, he never struck me as such a reasonable guy.'

'He's not so bad,' said Cas, looking down.

'Whatever. Anyway, we'd better go. Get some food into this one,' she said, nudging Alfie with her toe. 'It's so great to see you, Castiel.' She hugged him again. 'Keep in touch this time, okay? We miss you.'

'I'll do my best,' Cas said.

Anna pulled away and they both suddenly looked very solemn. It only lasted a moment before it was replaced with friendly smiles.

'See ya,' said Anna, leading Alfie away.

'Bye, Cassie!' Alfie called.

Cas watched them go, then slowly turned away.

'So, you've got a cousin called Raphael, and your brothers are called Michael and Gabriel,' said Dean, trying to keep up a conversation. 'Y'all into your angels?'

Castiel's lip twitched. 'You could say that.'

'What? I don't get it.'

'It was a competition of sorts that my mother and uncle had. They competed to find the best angel names.' Cas explained. 'So we all have them.'

'But Alfie and Anna aren't angel names.'

'Anna is short for Anabiel, the angel invoked to cure stupidity.'

'Your uncle feeling particularly sassy that afternoon?'

Cas ignored him. 'Alfie is his middle name, and we all call him that. His first name is Samandriel, after the angel of imagination. My favourite one. It's more interesting than my brothers and Raphael, they're all named after archangels.'

'Huh. Hold on, don't you have a sister? Her name's Lucy, right? What's that about?'

'She used to be Zakiel, but then she became Lucy. She's more comfortable that way.'

'Oh, I see.'

They were almost back at the tent when a smile suddenly spread over Dean's face and he stopped. 'Hold on, hold on a sec.'

'What?'

'What about Castiel? What's his deal?'

'Castiel… You have to promise not to laugh.'

'I promise.'

Cas hesitated. 'Castiel is the angel of Thursdays.'

Dean blinked rapidly. 'I'm sorry, what?'

'I was born on a Thursday, so I was named after the angel of Thursdays. If you pray to Castiel on a Thursday, he will guide you through any upcoming journey you may have.'

'Oh,' said Dean, biting his lip. 'I am not laughing. I am so not laughing,' he said, catching Cas's expression.

When they arrived back at the tents, they found Sam teaching Mr Weasley how to properly build a fire. Sherlock was napping peacefully up against his tent, and Fred, George and Ginny were sat in the entrance of theirs, playing a card game.

'We decided to leave him like that,' Sam smiled, gesturing at Sherlock.

Dean crouched down to see the progress they were making with the fire, when he noticed Cas shivering slightly out of the corner of his eye. 'Be back in a minute,' he said, disappearing inside his tent. He emerged holding an old, cracked leather jacket and put it on Cas. 'Better?' he asked.

It was way too big for him, but he didn't seem to mind. He wrapped it around himself and nodded. The two of them then sat down by the fire.

'You're letting him wear the jacket?' Sam said incredulously.

'What do you mean?' said Cas.

'It's nothing, Cas, Sam's just-'

'Dean loves that jacket,' Sam interrupted. 'It's our dad's. Dean never lets anyone touch it.'

'That's – that's not even. Whatever,' Dean stammered. 'The guy's just bones, he needed it.'

'Whatever you say, Dean,' Sam sniggered, pulling out a box of matches. 'Here, you try,' he said, handing the matches to Mr Weasley.

Mr Weasley took them eagerly and immediately began breaking matches trying to light them.

Then Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived back with pots of water.

'Took you long enough,' said Fred.

'We met a few people,' said Ron. 'Have you not got the fire started yet?'

'Dad's having fun with the matches,' said George.

Sam was showing Mr Weasley the right movement needed to light the match.

'Oops!' said Mr Weasley as he accidentally lit a match and dropped it.

Dean rolled his eyes, pulled out a lighter, and lit the fire.

'Dean!' Sam said indignantly.

'What? We gotta eat sometime.'

'Keep trying Mr Weasley,' Sam encouraged. 'You can get this.'

Mr Weasley did eventually light a match and not drop it, but it would be at least another hour before the fire was hot enough to cook anything. Thankfully, there was plenty to look at. Their tent seemed to be right by the main path to the Quidditch pitch, and Ministry officials kept hurrying past.

Mr Weasley kept up a running commentary for them while they waited for the fire.

They had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie and Percy came strolling out of the woods towards them.

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

Hermione went over to Sherlock and gently shook him awake. He jerked slightly as he woke and looked around blearily.

'I'll get John,' he mumbled.

Mr Weasley made them all plates of food and John emerged from the tent, stretching, and hair stuck up on one side. 'Oh, good, sausage and eggs, my favourite,' he said, grabbing a plate.

Sherlock picked absent-mindedly at his food and Cas only ate half of one of his sausages.

Suddenly, Mr Weasley jumped to his feet, waving madly at the man coming towards them. 'Ludo!' he called. 'Ludo, over here!'

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person around. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of black and yellow. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. His nose was squashed, but his round blue eyes, short blond hair and rosy complexion made him look like an overgrown schoolboy.

'Ahoy there!' Bagman called happily, plainly in a state of wild excitement, and trotted over to them. 'Arthur, old man,' he puffed as he reached the campfire. 'What a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements… not much for me to do at all!'

'Seems that way,' Mr Weasley said, smiling wryly. 'Let me introduce you to everyone. My son, Percy, he's just started at the Ministry – and this is Fred, no, George, sorry – that's Fred – Bill, Charlie, Ron – my daughter Ginny. And let's see, a whole group of friends. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson over here, the Winchester boys, of course, Sam and Dean. And, erm… Cas – Castiel, that's it! Castiel Edlund, I believe.'

'Edlund, is that right? Your father wouldn't be Carver Edlund, would he?'

Cas nodded stiffly.

'Excellent! I used to play a little friendly Quidditch with your father back in the day. It's been years, though, how's old Chuck doing these days?'

'He prefers to keep to himself,' Cas mumbled. 'Since my mother…'

'Yes, yes, of course. I was very sorry to hear about that. I met her a few times, Theresa was a wonderful woman.'

Cas stood up and dashed into the tent, followed by Dean.

'Something I said?' Bagman said, bewildered. 'Anyway, anyone fancy a flutter on the match?'

Mr Weasley hesitated, then said, 'Oh… go on then. A Galleon on Ireland to win?'

'A Galleon?' Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself and began writing it down.

John gave Fred and George a meaningful look. They were confused for a second, then excitedly pulled money from their pockets.

'Any other takers?' said Bagman.

'They're a bit young to be gambling,' said Mr Weasley. 'Molly wouldn't like-'

'We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts,' said Fred, 'that Ireland wins, but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand.'

'Don't go showing Mr Bagman rubbish like that,' Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all. In fact, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the and gave a loud squeak and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter. 'Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!'

Percy froze in stunned disapproval.

'Boys,' said Mr Weasley under his breath. 'I don't want you betting… that's all your savings… your mother-'

'Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!' Bagman boomed. 'They're old enough to know what they want.'

Mr Weasley was helpless to stop the twins as they handed over all their money.

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

'Mr Crouch?' Percy said excitedly. 'He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll…'

'Anyone can speak Troll,' said Fred dismissively, 'all you have to do is point and grunt.'

Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look, and stoked the fire vigorously.

'Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?' Mr Weasley asked as Bagman settled on the grass by the fire.

John felt his chest constrict once more. 'Oh no,' he whispered, gripping Sherlock's knee.

'Bertha Jorkins again?' Sherlock whispered, but John had already been deafened by the vision. 'Do we have any water?' he asked those gathered around the fire.

'No, the last of it's in the kettle,' said Mr Weasley. 'How about tea?'

'It'll have to do,' said Sherlock, reaching out for a mug.

'Is he all right?' Bagman asked, seeing John's expression and balled fists.

'He's fine,' Sherlock said briskly.

Sam opened his mouth, but Ron elbowed him, shaking his head.

After a minute, John uttered a soft gasp and shuddered as he came out of the vision.

'Here, tea. Careful, it's hot,' Sherlock said. John's hands were shaking too much to hold the mug on his own, so Sherlock helped him take a sip. 'It's August, nineteen ninety-four. We're at the Quidditch World Cup.'

John nodded, then exhaled and relaxed a little. 'I'm okay,' he said, slightly croakily.

'Same again?' Sherlock asked.

'Same again.' John looked over at Bagman. 'Should we tell him?'

'Not until we hear back from Dumbledore,' said Sherlock.

'Yeah. Probably for the best.' John took another sip of his tea, this time on his own. In truth, he was not at all sure whether or not they were doing the right thing, though with his current knowledge of Cornelius Fudge was enough to make him hesitate sharing with the Ministry, for now.

Just then, another wizard Apparated right by their fire.

'Barty!' Bagman exclaimed.

Barty Crouch was stiff, crisply dressed and immaculately groomed. It was now clear why Percy idolised him.

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

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

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

'Mr Crouch!' Percy said breathlessly. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'

'Oh,' said Mr Crouch, looking over Percy in mild surprise. 'Yes – thank you, Weatherby.'

Fred and George choked on their own mugs of tea, then looked up at Percy, huge grins on their faces.

'So, been keeping busy, Barty?' Bagman said breezily.

'Fairly,' Mr Crouch said drily. 'Organising Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo.'

'I expect you'll both be glad when this is all over?' said Mr Weasley.

Bagman looked shocked. 'Glad! I don't know when I've had more fun! Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organise, eh?'

Mr Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman. 'We agreed not to make any announcements until all the details-'

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

'Ludo, we need to meet with the Bulgarians, you know,' said Mr Crouch sharply, cutting across Bagman's remarks. 'Thank you for the tea, Weatherby.' He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Bagman to struggle to his feet.

'See you later!' said Bagman. 'You'll be in the Top Box with me – I'm commentating!'

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

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

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

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

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

Dean poked his head out of the tent. 'Is he gone?' he asked.

'Yeah, he's gone,' said Sam.

'Okay, come on.' Dean reached behind him and Castiel emerged from the tent. His eyes and nose were red and Hermione passed him a cup of tea. He sat down and stared into his tea without a word.

Dean sat closely beside him, and deflected any conversation directed at him.

By the time evening arrived, the excitement in the air was palpable. Salesmen were Apparating every few feet with carts full of souvenirs and merchandise.

'I've been saving my pocket money all summer for this,' said Ron as one of the salesmen approached them. Ron bought himself a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, but he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature walked backwards and forwards over Ron's hand.

They all got programmes and Omnioculars – sets of binoculars that had slow motion, rewind and play-by-play functions.

Sam and Dean bought large, ostentatious hats and laughed at each other wearing them.

Cas bought a single, small rosette and pinned it to his jumper.

John insisted that Sherlock wear one of the dancing Shamrock hat, and he could not have looked less impressed.

Then, a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods. Green and red lanterns blazed to life in the trees, lighting a path to the pitch.

'It's time!' said Mr Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. 'Come on, let's go!'

Hey guys, what's up! Thanks to Sherlock Harry Winchester, RHatch89, Guest, DaughterofMagic3, Soron66 and Miss Aelys O'Moon for the wonderful reviews. I love you guys xx

Another long one, but it seems to me that most of the chapters will be about this length, so I hope no one minds :L I hope you enjoy it and I'll see you all net time!