SHAMELESS PLUG!
My first original novel, Strangers In Boston, is now available on Amazon under my pen name, T.S. Mann (get it?). It's free to Kindle Prime members and $4.99 to people who want to download the Ebook. Paperback copies are available for $12.99. Check it out, and if you like it, please leave a review. Basically, it's American Harry Potter. Except there's no school, no wands, and if you use magic improperly, it can drive you insane and possibly destroy the world. No pressure or anything.
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We now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic.
Harry Black
and the Resurrection Game
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
Chapter 8: The Quidditch World Cup
9 August 1994
(Day 2)
While Draco had declared Day One of the Quidditch World Cup to be boring, Day Two was another matter: the first match of the day was between perennial powerhouse Germany and "the Balkan Miracle," as the sports reporters referred to the upstart Bulgarian team. As Harry sat down next to Draco in their VIP box, this was the boy's first opportunity to see Malfoy's schoolmate, the famous Viktor Krum, in action. The young Bulgarian, still a month shy of his seventeenth birthday, had been the story of the year. Two days before a crucial Qualifying Round against Macedonia, Borka Chavdarov, the previous Seeker of the Bulgarian National Team, was arrested for getting drunk, getting naked, and riding a bear through the streets of Sofia, shooting fireworks from his wand (his magical wand, to be specific) the whole time. Scores of Muggles witnessed the whole thing, and Chavdarov's Folly, as the papers dubbed it, was a significant violation of the Statute of Secrecy. Chavdarov's situation and that of the Bulgarian Team were only worsened by the fact that the Bulgarian reserve Seeker tried in vain to stop Chavdarov only for the bear to get hold of him with fatal results.
Desperate, the Bulgarian coach extended an invitation to Krum, a Bulgarian national who'd been the top-rated Seeker at Durmstrang since his second year. The coach had held out hope that Krum could keep the team competitive enough for their first three games while the lawyers tried to get Chavdarov out of jail. He was as surprised as anyone when Krum caught the Snitch within fifteen minutes, not only outflying the Macedonian Seeker but also leaving him in the dirt after a flawless Wronski Feint. Krum did just as well in his second match and his third. By his fourth, no one was talking about Borka Chavdarov anymore.
Viktor Krum, the new Bulgarian national hero, would go on a nine-game winning streak as Seeker before the team finally lost a match, and the Bulgarians would only lose three of the sixteen Qualifying Rounds. Most importantly, no one ever beat Krum to the Snitch.
"So," asked Harry Black, "what's he like?"
"For Merlin's sake, Harry," drawled Draco Malfoy. "You make it sound like I'm dating him."
"Not my intention, I assure you." Harry hesitated. "By the way, I never had a chance to ask last night. Is it Draco or Drake?"
"Draco… for the time being anyway. I'm still unhappy with a name my mother picked because of the conventions of a House I'm not a part of. But on the other hand, most of the kids at Durmstrang are Eastern European, and my name sounds a lot more impressive when people pronounce it Draaago!"
Harry laughed. "Fair enough. So leaving aside any suggestion of romantic interest, what is Krum like? I mean, you did say he'd been assigned as your student mentor, whatever that is?"
"It's basically what Granger did for Crabbe and Goyle when we were First Years except, at Durmstrang, we have older students assigned to mentor and tutor new arrivals. Oh, and no money changes hands. Well, not for tutoring, anyway. Usually it's just for First Years, but since I transferred as a Third Year, I got assigned one too. And because I am awesome—and Headmaster Karkaroff owes my father a life debt—I got assigned Krum."
Then, Draco and Harry leaned forward in their seats, their conversation temporarily forgotten, as Krum performed a corkscrew turn in the air to dodge a Bludger at the last possible second. Harry was pretty sure that was the same maneuver he'd used to evade the two Bludgers during his infamous Second Year match when deranged house elves interfered with the game with nearly fatal results. Unlike his desperation move, however, Krum made the maneuver seem deliberate and even casual.
Harry whistled while the crowd around them roared its approval. Draco smirked at him.
"Yes, I thought that would seem familiar to you. I showed Viktor a Pensieve memory of that match. He stole several of your moves, actually. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," Harry said cheerfully as he took a sip of butterbeer. "Has he done a Suicide Slam yet?"
"No, he says that's my signature move, and he doesn't want to horn in on it."
Harry nodded, but then he blinked before his eyes widened. "Draco? Have you done another Suicide Slam at Durmstrang?"
The corners of the Malfoy Heir's lips twitched. "Two, actually. Don't tell Father."
Harry snorted. "I wouldn't dream of it! So anyway, you still haven't told me what Krum… or Viktor, I suppose… is like."
Draco popped a Cockroach Cluster into his mouth and chewed deliberately while considering the question.
"He's very intelligent and a lot smarter than he looks and acts. In fact, he actively cultivates the image of an aloof and surly thick-headed peasant so that people underestimate him and don't try to engage him in conversation. He hates idle conversation and especially people who shriek his name and beg for autographs. He also took ten OWLs and plans to sit six NEWTs. 'Joost in case Kvidditch doesn't vurk out' is how he put it."
Draco laughed and shook his head.
"Pfft. As though Viktor can't have his pick of Seeker spots in another year. Anyway, he's been the Prefect for House Bogatyr for the last two years. He was offered the Head Boy position but had to turn it down after Bulgaria made the Cup. Simply unbelievable on a broom. Better than Potter, I'd say. Or even you. I should be able to introduce you to him later, though I should warn you, his English is … poor."
"Does he want to go anywhere in particular?" Harry asked idly.
Draco hesitated for a second. "His family wants him to go to the Vratsa Vultures, who have been recruiting him heavily. That way he can stay close to home."
"Hmm. I notice that doesn't actually answer the question I asked," Harry said lightly.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Merlin's Bones, I'd forgotten how annoying it was when you did that." Then, he paused thoughtfully. "By the way, you do know you're using Legilimency, right? I don't remember if we ever discussed that."
Harry looked at him in surprise. "I do, yes. How did you know about it?"
"Psychic arts are an elective at Durmstrang. Two months into my first term in the introductory class, I had an epiphany and said to myself 'Oh, that's why I decided to do a Suicide Slam!'"
"Draco …" Harry said in the beginnings of an apology.
"Don't," the other boy interrupted. "I'm perfectly content with any personality changes you may have unwittingly made to my psyche. Just don't do it again. And don't let my father find out."
"No fear," Harry said with a shudder. "I have no desire to be fed to your father's Abraxans."
There was a brief pause in the conversation, as both boys jumped out of their seats to cheer. Bulgaria had scored yet another goal against the German Keeper, and the score was now 90-70 with Bulgaria in the lead.
"I must say, Draco," he continued as they sat back down. "You're in a surprisingly good mood today. I was worried that after last night you'd be …"
He trailed off as Draco leaned over so that others in the box could not overhear.
"I'd be what? Gibbering in terror?" he replied. "Level two Occlumens, Harry. I don't feel emotions that I don't want to feel, including shock, horror, and terror."
He smiled grimly.
"No fear indeed."
The previous evening at Malfoy Manor
Draco stood at the window of the family library watching as his father's albino peacocks strolled gracefully across the front lawn while the sun was setting over the tree line. His back was to the others in the room while he composed himself. His Psychic Arts professor had rated him a Level 2 Occlumens but just barely, and he still didn't entirely trust himself to keep his emotions under control. Particularly in light of everything his father had just told him. In his hand was a strange wand—the Black Wand, it was apparently called—which Potter … no, Black had loaned him so that Lucius could swear both him and Professor Snape to a surprisingly stringent oath without risking the Trace.
He turned around to face the others.
"Okay, let me see if I have it all straight. House Malfoy, along with the other Ancient & Noble Houses, is part of a centuries-old conspiracy that exists to suppress knowledge of incredibly dark spells from a forbidden grimoire called the Anathema Codex … a copy of which is sitting right there."
Draco gestured towards the menacing tome sitting on the table in front of his father, a leather-bound book with faded gilt letters on the cover that spelled out those very words. He continued.
"The Dark Lord obtained a copy of that book and used a dark and forbidden spell from it to make himself immortal through the use of … sorry, I don't think I heard the word properly. Oar-Crusties?"
"Horcruxes," Lucius corrected.
"Ah, yes. Horcruxes. And you are all part of a conspiracy of House Malfoy, House Black, and House Longbottom, among others, to destroy those Horcruxes and finish the Dark Lord forever. To which end, you …"
At that point, the boy paused as if he could not quite fathom what he'd been told.
"To which end, you broke into Azkaban and freed several Death Eaters?!"
"Yes," Lucius replied placidly. "We did indeed. And in our defense, that part of the plan went masterfully until we made the mistake of expecting the government to demonstrate basic competence."
"Still, Father," Draco said almost reproachfully. "A jailbreak?! From Azkaban?! It sounds like something a bunch of Gryffindors would have thought of!"
"Draco!" Snape said sharply. "There is no cause to be insulting!"
The boy nodded respectfully. "My apologies, Father. That was uncalled for."
Draco turned his attention towards Regulus.
"It also turns out that Sirius Black is innocent, that Bellatrix Lestrange is innocent, and you, Regulus Black, are not dead after all!"
Reg smiled warmly at the boy. "How do you even know who I am?"
"Mother had a scrap book of old family photos that she would show me from time to time. As I recall, she praised you for your support for the Dark Lord, but she was also extremely jealous of how lustrous and shiny your hair always seemed to be, and so because of that, she wasn't overly upset when you died."
Lucius snorted. "Yes, that does sound like her."
Draco turned back to his father, and his eyes narrowed. "Is that why you sent me to Durmstrang, Father? To keep me out of the way while you were engaged in this business?"
"In part," Lucius admitted. "Though I told you once that you would have gone to Durmstrang from the start if the decision had been mine. And you did say you wanted a fresh start."
"Yes, well, right now, I'm back. You have made me swear oaths to initiate me not only into the greatest secrets of the Ancient & Noble Houses but also into … sorry, does the anti-Horcrux conspiracy have a name?"
"We ended up going with Azkabal," Harry said drily.
Draco gaped at him, his mouth hanging open in astonishment.
"Yeah, we know," Harry continued. "A Gryffindor came up with it, and the rest of us decided it wasn't worth the effort of fighting over."
"Fair enough, I suppose. So anyway, now that I'm a part of both these conspiracies …"
He took a step forward and exchanged a look with Lucius.
"What do you need me to do?"
Now …
"Draco," Harry said quietly. "Just between us … are you okay with all this?"
Draco shrugged. "It is what it is, Harry. At Hogwarts, I was Sorted into House Slytherin. At Durmstrang, I was Sorted into House Bogatyr, which …" He hesitated. "Well, let's just say it has a different reputation. But one that means that I will help in any way I can, at least for the next year."
Harry nodded. "By the way, how did you manage to be guaranteed a spot on the Durmstrang delegation to the Triwizard Tournament? The life debt owed to your father?"
"Oh, it wasn't even necessary to call on that, Harry. I'm third in my Year, English is my native tongue, and I'm probably the only person in all of Durmstrang, student or faculty, to have ever even set foot in Hogwarts."
"Well, it will be good to have you back, if only for a year. And I'm sure your father will be happy you're closer to home for a while."
"Hmm, yes … after sending me away for a year so he could keep his secrets more easily."
"Oh give him a break, Draco," Harry chided. "After all, it's not like you don't have secrets that you've been keeping from him."
Draco looked at Harry through narrowed eyes. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
Harry looked around to make sure no one was close. Then, he leaned in and whispered something in Draco's ear. Instantly, the other boy jumped away from him in surprise.
"How the hell do you know about that?!" he spat.
Harry laughed. "I know everything worth knowing, Draco. That's why they let me sit in the Big Chair."
Draco started to respond, but his next words were drowned out by the roar of the crowd, and seconds later, both boys had forgotten their whispered conversation. They were too busy screaming their excited approval.
Viktor Krum had caught the Snitch.
There was little chance that the second preliminary match that day could have ever equaled the thrills of Bulgaria's victory that morning, but it was nevertheless an exciting competition. The scrappy Australian team overpowered the Americans by two goals despite losing the Snitch. Regulus was simultaneously thrilled and frustrated. While he supported his adopted homeland's team wholeheartedly, his Archie Goodwin identity was thought to be American, and it wouldn't do to be too publicly demonstrative over Australia's victory. He made up for it upon his return to Blackstone later that night, where he got drunk enough to serenade the whole household with a traditional Australian folk song called "Beer Beer Beautiful Beer!"
On Day 3 of the Cup, poor Regulus was too hungover to accompany Harry, Neville and Theo to the arena, and so a disapproving Augusta Longbottom went in his place, while Sirius (who wanted desperately to attend the Cup but could neither Portkey nor Apparate safely) harangued his "little brother" for his irresponsibility. Regent Longbottom was decidedly not a fan of Quidditch, but she was relatively patriotic, and all four of the national teams hailing from the British Isles were scheduled to compete on Days 3 and 4. And so, the dowager sat in a chair behind three loudly screaming boys and politely clapped each goal before returning to her knitting. Not that there was too much to clap about. While Ireland won handily against Peru, Luxembourg beat Scotland with relative ease.
The next day was even worse for British fans. First, Uganda took out Wales in a surprisingly competitive game. Then, the English took the field after lunch and proceeded to suffer the most humiliating loss they'd seen in Cup play in centuries: 390-10 against Transylvania!
12 August 1994
Malfoy Manor
After four days of preliminary competition, the Cup took a break from tournament play. Friday was given over to an exhibition game featuring the Chudley Cannons and the Jamaica Jarveys. As it happened, Chudley was among several UK Quidditch teams guaranteed the chance to compete in exhibition during any World Cup held in the British Isles. This was due to ill-considered provisions negotiated during the 17th century when the former European Cup was opened up to other nations, and back then, Chudley was considered one of the top professional Quidditch teams in the world. Now, 300 years later, the Cup organizers struggled to find someone to compete against the hapless Cannons on their level, eventually sending an invitation to a very surprised group of amateur Quidditch enthusiasts from Jamaica who didn't even have team uniforms at the time and who picked the name Jarveys at the last minute solely for the alliteration.
They beat the Cannons 190 to 30.
Neither Harry nor any other member of the Azkabal was on hand to see yet another Chudley fiasco, as they had far more important matters to discuss. Though most of the Azkabal had visited Malfoy Manor at one point or another over the last year, this was the first time for Hermione and Amy, who both came through the Floo along with Harry. Once she'd gotten her bearings, Hermione was surprised to spot Draco on the other side of the room talking to Neville.
"Is that Draco?!" she asked. "When did he …?"
"Get so cute?" Amy asked mischievously. "I know, right! Between him and Viktor Krum, Durmstrang must be doing something right!"
Hermione blushed slightly and coughed. "I was going to say 'When did he join our illegal conspiracy?'"
"Last Monday," Harry supplied while giving Amy a stern 'big brother' look that she ignored.
"But you do agree that he's gotten hot since we last saw him, right?" she inquired.
"Well … um … that is …" Hermione stammered.
"Very articulate, Hermione," Harry said sarcastically. "I notice that neither of you have been gushing over my 'hotness.' Should I be offended or relieved?"
"Oh, Harry," Amy sighed. "You're family, so I could never consider you hot. I'm not one of those Purebloods, after all." Then, she turned to the other girl. "What about you, Hermione? Do you think Harry is as hot as Draco? And Neville, I suppose, since he's filled out nicely too?"
"Amy!" Hermione hissed.
"Stop instigating, Cousin Amy," Harry said firmly. "We're here on business. You can wait until you get back to Hogwarts to compare the relative sexiness of all your male friends."
"Why Cousin Harry!" Amy said in mock surprise. "However did you know what the Slytherin girls spend nearly every night doing up in our dorm rooms?"
Soon after, the entire group had adjourned to a conference room where Lucius's two remaining house elves waited. Prixie treated everyone to tea and sandwiches while Lemmy passed out copies of the documents Lucius had obtained. Since his return from Little Hangleton, Lucius had managed to secure a DMLE report regarding the arrest and incarceration of both Marvolo and Morfin Gaunt sometime in 1925 or 1926, and he invited his fellow conspirators to Malfoy Manor for review and discussion. As the group read through copies of the fifty-year-old DMLE report Lucius provided, Regulus asked about his lack of precision as to the date.
"Water damage from a burst pipe in 1961," he replied by way of explanation. "Damage which no one noticed in time to repair the files because they were kept in a seldom-used archive for cases that had been closed for over forty years. That is why I was unable to find out what happened to the Gaunts before now."
"That sounds oddly suspicious," Harry said.
"We are Slytherins, Harry. We find everything suspicious. The files may have been occluded by the Dark Lord or one of his agents as part of his persistent attempts to conceal his own origins. Or they might have been hidden from us as a side effect of the Fidelius that covered the Gaunt property until last Monday. Or it may simply be a coincidence. We have no way of knowing. Now, if I may continue?"
According to what information Lucius was able to recover from the damaged and incomplete files, Morfin Gaunt magically assaulted Tom Riddle Jr. (Voldemort's future father) at the Little Hangleton May Day Festival before cursing a number of other Muggles in public. Because of Little Hangleton's isolation, it took nearly three weeks for news of the incident to reach the Ministry, at which point an investigator named Bob Ogden was sent to investigate. Ogden visited the Gaunts at their home, but the actual incident report which would have included the Gaunts' physical address was missing or destroyed, which is why Lucius had been unable to track the Gaunts down previously. From what could be pieced together, however, both Gaunts attempted to curse Ogden, and he withdrew from the scene and returned with hit wizards who promptly arrested both father and son. Marvolo did six months in Azkaban for assaulting a Ministry official. His son Morfin got three years for felony Muggle baiting for the May Day incident.
"After his release, Marvolo drops out of the picture completely," Lucius concluded. "There are no more Ministry records about him."
With a nervous cough, Hermione raised her hand as if back in class.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked in bemusement.
"Well, I imagine it was probably because he died not long after his release," she said. "After I couldn't find out anything more than the information which I gave to Harry last Saturday, it occurred to me that I hadn't looked into Great Hangleton. So I called the library there and asked. It turned out that they sort of inherited all the public records from Little Hangleton back in the 1950s. They also put me in touch with the Hangleton Area Historical Society. From what I've learned, Marvolo Gaunt was found dead in his home on 15 December 1926. The Muggle authorities said it was natural causes. He was in his eighties at the time and after six months in Azkaban, he was probably incapable of looking after himself, so I saw no reason to think his death might have been suspicious … but well, I'm a Gryffindor, so that sort of thing just wouldn't occur to me, I suppose. Anyway, he's buried in a cemetery just outside Little Hangleton."
"Probably the cemetery we walked past on our way from the Riddle house to the Gaunt shack," Regulus said. "I wish we'd known. We could have stopped by and paid our respects to the old nutter."
"I'll Apparate back over there tomorrow and find out exactly where he's buried," Lucius said. "Just to make sure it's actually him buried there and that he didn't just fake his own death. Because I'm a Slytherin, and that sort of thing does occur to me."
Then, Lucius frowned. "By the way, our conspiracy is missing some members. Where are Sirius and the Tonkses?"
"At the Ministry," Regulus said. "Nymphadora's being sworn in today, and Sirius decided to attend with Andi and Ted."
"Who's being sworn in?" Draco asked. "And into what?"
So far, the younger Malfoy had only met a few members of the group. In fact, he'd been surprised to find it included Neville and shocked to see it included Hermione … and that his father was completely at ease with the first Muggleborn to enter Malfoy Manor in centuries, if ever.
"Nymphadora Tonks is a Black cousin and an Auror trainee," Harry explained. "While her training period was interrupted last year due to … well, a lot of nonsense involving Azkaban escapees, she's since completed training and is being sworn in as a Junior Auror today."
"Which also means that she and the other Tonkses will be playing less of a role in our activities," Regulus added. "As an Auror, she'll be under certain oaths which might obligate her to tell her superiors about anything illegal she observes in the future. So going forward, we'll be giving her what I believe the Muggles refer to as 'plausible deniability.'"
Lucius laughed. "Plausible deniability. I shall have to remember that term. Though I am, of course, quite familiar with the concept."
At that moment in Auror Headquarters …
There was a smattering of applause as Chief Auror Amelia Bones stepped forward to hand Junior Auror Nymphadora Tonks an official badge and shake her hand. The two turned slightly to face the photographer from the Daily Prophet. She was the last of the Aurors to be sworn in today, and while she was pleased to wear the Auror's badge, Tonks was also more than a little insecure about her worthiness to do so. After all, technically, she had only completed about eighteen months of the normal three-year training program before being put on administrative leave. As a Metamorphmagus and also a relative of most of the Azkaban escapees, she'd been under suspicion of involvement in the previous year's infamous jailbreak. Of course, she had been involved in the jailbreak, but only after the fact. Luckily, the oath she'd just sworn was prospective and would not punish her for any criminal activities she might have been involved with in the past.
"Come to think of it," she thought to herself, "if Alastor Moody is right, it probably wouldn't punish me for anything I do in the future either. According to him, the British Auror's Oath has loopholes you can fly a Hippogriff through, which is why so many of them went bad during the last war."
The fact remained, however, that she had only completed a year and a half of training as Moody's apprentice before being put on leave, and despite her best efforts she still felt that some of her skills had atrophied. And yet, she was still better off than the other three trainees who had sworn their oaths just before her and were now her fellow Junior Aurors. None of them had received more than a single year of training, but in their case it was the result of an accelerated training schedule caused by a desperate manpower shortage. Between the Hogsmeade attack and the escape of Peter Pettigrew and Augustus Rookwood, the Auror Corps had lost two of its three Senior Aurors and most of the last trainee class. It was a sobering reminder of just how dangerous her new job was going to be.
Across the room, Junior Auror Emily Rossum, who had sworn her own oath just moments earlier, had received congratulatory handshakes from Senior Aurors Thicknesse, Savage, and Dawlish. The latter two had been sworn into their new roles as part of the day's ceremony. Once the trio had moved on to the other Junior Aurors, Emily stepped over to yet another person who had been sworn in that morning.
"So," said Auror Trainee Marcus Flint, "I'm guessing it would be wildly inappropriate to kiss a superior officer in front of everyone?"
"Wildly inappropriate," she said with a smirk before reaching up to peck him on the cheek anyway. He laughed.
"Dinner later?" he leaned in to whisper. "And then, maybe we celebrate back at your place?"
"Dinner, yes. But no on the celebration, Marcus. Remember, we both have to be up early tomorrow to work security for the Cup."
"Alright, alright," he grumbled. "But once this bloody Cup is over, you and me are gonna take a few days off to ourselves, okay?"
She chuckled. "We'll see, though I'm amazed at you of all people being eager for the Quidditch World Cup to be over with so quickly. But I should warn you—I remember my first week as a trainee. I was too sore to get out of bed!"
Flint pretended to think for a moment. "I think I can work with that," he said with a smirk.
Meanwhile, Sirius had made his way over to Amelia. "Chief Auror, a pleasure to see you again. It's been a long time."
"Lord Black," she said professionally. "I was surprised to see you here at first. I had forgotten about your connection to Auror Tonks. I'm pleased to see you have welcomed her back into the fold. She'll go far with the backing of an Ancient and Noble House."
Sirius laughed. "Oh, I think she'll go far whether she has my backing or not. I've even offered to let her officially change her name to Black if she thinks it will open more doors than it might slam shut." He chuckled. "I am … aware of my family's controversial reputation."
Then, Sirius spoke again but more carefully. "While I have your ear, Chief Auror … has there been any word on Peter Pettigrew?"
"Lord Black, I understand your personal interest in the Pettigrew case, but I cannot share any details …"
"Chief Auror," Sirius said crisply. "I'm not asking for details. Just whether there's been any word. For all we know, Pettigrew and Rookwood are searching for You-Know-Who even as we speak, assuming they haven't already found him."
Her eyes narrowed. "The official position of the British Ministry of Magic has been that You-Know-Who has been dead since 1981, Lord Black."
Sirius lifted his chin. "I am well aware of the Ministry's official position, Chief Auror. And also why the Ministry took that position in the first place."
Amelia took a deep breath and then exhaled. "I am sorry, Lord Black, but I simply have nothing more I can share with you at this time."
He nodded slowly. "I quite understand. Thank you for addressing my concerns."
With that, Sirius turned and walked away from the Chief Auror without another word.
After shaking hands with all the other well-wishers and fellow Aurors, Tonks finally made her way over to her parents.
"Congratulations, Dora," Ted said as he leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek and give her a hug. "We're both so very proud of you."
"Indeed, Nymphadora," said Andromeda. "You have brought much honor to our family."
The young woman's eyes flashed in annoyance, and she looked around quickly to see if anyone else was close enough to hear. "I have asked you for years not to call me that. If you won't respect my wishes in general, you could at least do so today of all days."
Andromeda laughed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, darling. But I couldn't resist calling you that one last time."
Her daughter blinked. "What?"
Andi reached into her handbag and pulled out an envelope. "A gift from me and Ted to you. Something you've asked for and, if you still want it, have earned."
Tonks took the envelope from her mother and opened it. Inside were some legal documents. At the top of the first page was written "Notice of Change of Name." It was signed by Andromeda, Ted, and Sirius, with two blanks left empty: one for Nymphadora Tonks's own signature and one for the signature of her new name.
Normally, legally changing the name of a witch or wizard was surprisingly difficult due to institutional beliefs about Nomenography and the importance of birth names. But there were exceptions. In this instance, it turned out that the new Lord Black could adopt back into the family the child of any former Black who'd been cast out. And in the process, the newly reinstated Black could, as part of the quasi-adoption, be given a new first name without having to jump through the customary legal hoops. If she executed this form, she could finally change her hated name of Nymphadora to anything she wanted.
The price, however, was that she would have to exchange the surname Tonks for Black.
"Well, dear?" Andromeda said while Ted stood beside her, smiling indulgently. "Who do you wish to become?"
Elsewhere within the Ministry
"Knock, knock!" said Ludo Bagman as he pushed his way into the already cramped Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. In addition to three desks and a half-dozen battered filing cabinets stuffed into what had previously been a large storage closet, the office was now also home to a large cardboard box with the words "Magical Tent" stenciled on the side and which was partially blocking the door.
"Ah, Ludo, old bean!" Arthur said merrily. "What brings you to our humble offices?"
The Director of the Department of Magical Games and Sports paused to look around. "Heh, humble indeed! And Merlin, is it always this hot in here?!"
"Why, Director Bagman!" said Perkins sarcastically. "Whatever do you mean?"
At present, Perkins had an enchanted oscillating fan on either side of him floating in mid-air, neither of which prevented him from being drenched with sweat. Arthur and James were equally affected despite the regular use of Cooling Charms.
"The building's main boiler room is just on the other side of that wall," James said. "Which apparently isn't insulated at all. We could Transfigure the wall so it would block out the heat, but we need DMLE approval to do so and, for some reason, we can't get the paperwork approved."
He gave a sour expression. "Funny that."
"Now, James," Arthur said good-naturedly. "These things just take a little time."
"Or … sometimes you just need to cultivate the right friendships," Bagman said easily. "Which brings me to why I'm here, Arthur. A few months back, you helped my brother Otto out of a jam, and I'm here to return the favor."
Arthur demurred. "Now Ludo, that's not necessary! That was just part of our job!"
He was referring to an incident several months earlier in which Otto Bagman's attempt to enchant a Muggle gas-powered lawnmower to operate itself went rather impressively wrong. He apparently managed to give the thing a taste for blood which led to two dead squirrels, a severely injured poodle, and the temporary loss of three of Otto's fingers. Luckily, Otto lived in a wizarding community and so no Muggles were on hand to see the mad mower in action, let alone be menaced by it. But it nevertheless resulted in a call to the DMLE and eventually to the MMA office. Arthur swiftly neutralized the feral machine and then showed Otto how to correct the defects which had caused its dangerous behavior before letting him off with a warning.
"Well, I don't have to tell you, Arthur, that you boys down here in the MMA Office aren't paid nearly what you deserve!" Ludo said somewhat pompously. "Now, as Head of the DMGS, I can't do anything about these deplorable working conditions, but by Merlin! I can at least get you all decent tickets to the Cup Final. What do you say?"
"Ludo," Arthur said shaking his head. "I'm very grateful, but we already have tickets."
"Tickets to the Ministry box, Arthur," Bagman corrected. "I'm going to upgrade you all to the VIP box! You'll be sitting in the same section as Fudge, Crouch, and all the foreign dignitaries! Best seats in the whole arena!"
James's eyes lit up, but then he deflated. "Unfortunately, Ludo, I won't be able to attend. The DMLE will be running a skeleton crew here, and I drew the short straw. I'll just be limited to listening in on the Wizarding Wireless."
"Oh, that's a pity," Bagman said. Then, his eyes lit up. "Say! Isn't your son, Jim, good friends with Arthur's youngest boy?"
"Ron?" Arthur said. "Oh yes, they've been best of friends ever since they first met on the train back in 1991. Why?"
"Well then! Why don't I give your family an extra ticket to the VIP box, and you can invite the Boy-Who-Lived as your personal guest! That way he'll still get to see the Final!"
"Ludo," James said cautiously. "Is there a reason why you're working so hard to get my son into the VIP box?"
"Hmm," Bagman said as if trying to think. "Other than the reasons I already gave you? Well let me just think a bit. Why could I possibly want the most famous and admired boy in all of Wizarding Britain, and also the Savior of our world, to appear among the international dignitaries and celebrities at the climax of the sporting event to which I've devoted the last three years of my life? For that matter, why might I want the most promising young Seeker to hit Hogwarts in a decade to have the best possible view of the Finals and perhaps think kindly of Good Old Ludo should he ever decide to go pro after graduating?"
Then, Ludo paused and grinned. "Actually, come to think of it, Arthur, if your little girl will be there as well, that's the two most promising young Seekers in a decade! By any chance are they dating? Think of how good their kids would be on a broom in fifteen or twenty years! The mind boggles!"
"Ludo," James said firmly. "I will not have my son used by you or anyone else just to advance your own career ambitions."
At that, Perkins, who'd been in the middle of casting another Cooling Charm, actually burst into laughter for a few seconds before getting hold of himself. Arthur glared at him but said nothing, while James suddenly blushed as he realized how hypocritical he sounded. Practically everyone in the Ministry knew how much his own career had been advanced just due to being Jim's father before he'd ruined it all.
"James, James, James," Ludo said reassuringly. "I'm not trying to use your son to advance anything. I really do want to do a favor for your department. I really do admire your son and am grateful for everything he's done for this nation. And I really do want to ensure that an incredibly gifted young Quidditch player has the opportunity to see the game played at its best."
Then, he grinned amiably. "And if young Jim ends up sitting with Minister Fudge on one side and Arthur here on the other and it leads to a discussion during a time-out about how your department needs a better office? Or, at the very least, functional air conditioning? Well, who's going to complain?"
James sighed and gave in. "Okay, Jim would be sitting with the Weasleys anyway, so I guess there's no harm in them having better seats for it … assuming you don't have any objections, Arthur?"
Arthur opened his mouth to respond but paused at the sight of Ludo's earnest expression.
"… Thank you for your generous gift, Ludo. On behalf of my department and my family, I am happy to accept."
"Splendid! So let's see now. That's you, Molly, and seven—no, eight—kids. Will the Lady Potter be coming along with Jim?"
James laughed. "Only if he ends up playing. Lily hates Quidditch. She didn't even enjoy watching me play until we started dating."
"And Molly won't need a ticket either," Arthur added. "She says she'll be manning the 3M food booth and waiting for the aftergame crowd to show up while the kids are watching the match."
"3M?" Ludo said in confusion.
"Molly's Magical Morsels!" Weasley said proudly.
"Oh yes, of course! Your wife's catering business! I've heard wonderful things about it!"
"I'll make sure she saves you a plate," Arthur replied genially.
Ludo nodded and then turned to the third worker in the office. "And what about you, Parkins? How many tickets will you need?"
"Perkins," he said bitingly. "And none. I'm having the Healers at St. Mungo's work on my back the Monday before the Finals, and then I'll be laid up all week." He turned towards James with a sneer. "So I guess you'll be on your own for a while."
James nodded with a tight smile. "Yes, Perkins," he thought to himself. "Because you always contribute so much to the office when you're actually here."
"Oh that's too bad, Perkins," Ludo said. "I hope you have a full recovery. Well, that's all I had to share. Arthur, I'll get you those tickets the first of next week. Ta-ta for now!"
Bagman gave a jaunty salute and exited the MMA Office with a spring in his step. After a quick elevator ride down to Level 7, he stepped out and headed towards his own office. Along the way, he passed by a large waiting area and noticed a hulking brute of a wizard wearing expensive but understated robes who was sitting alone while reading a back issue of the Quidditch Times. Bagman paused, and the wizard turned to look at him impassively. Ludo swallowed somewhat painfully and then nodded twice before quickly heading on into his office.
A few minutes later, Hyades Selwyn returned the magazine he'd been pretending to read to the rack on the wall before leaving the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Elsewhere in the Ministry, his younger sister would be waiting for his report.
Blackstone
A few hours later
Once the meeting had concluded, Harry and company returned to Blackstone. Regulus left at once to fill Sirius in on what they'd learned during the meeting, leaving Harry, Theo, and Amy to see Hermione off. From Blackstone, Hermione would return to her father's flat. Then, after eating dinner with him, he would deliver her to Emma Granger who would have custody for the following week.
"And since Mother refuses to get a Floo connection," Hermione said in a huff, "I'm pretty much stuck there for the next week. I mean, I can bike to the local library and spend the day reading, but otherwise, I'm trapped by myself in suburbia."
"Where is your mum all day while you're home alone?" Amy asked.
Hermione chuckled. "At work with Daddy. Ironically, they still work together just fine. In fact, they both say the practice is running better than ever since they've separated." Then, she frowned. "Presumably because the office is full of drills and computers and medical equipment, and everything is nice and Mugglish. There's nothing there to remind Mum about magic."
Harry winced at that.
"So," he said, changing the subject, "have you thought any more about joining us for the Cup? The Blacks, the Malfoys, and the Zabinis are setting up tents together. And Mrs. Weasley is catering it!"
Hermione hesitated. "Harry, do you think … do you think it would be okay if my father came to the Cup?"
"Well, of course!" Harry exclaimed. "I mean, I'm pretty sure he won't be affected by my … you know …"
"I thought we were calling it 'Bob' for some bizarre reason," Theo noted.
"Anyway," Harry continued. "We'll have plenty of room so …"
Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry. I don't mean would you mind if he came and stayed with the rest of us. I mean … would my father be okay if he came. He's a Muggle, after all, and there will be, what, 100,000 wizards and witches there? Will it … cause problems?"
Harry and Theo looked at one another.
"I … don't think so?" Harry said, though the questioning tone showed that he had some doubts.
"Does he want to come?" Amy asked. "Does he even know anything about Quidditch?"
"No, which is the reason he wants to come. You see, my wizarding ancestry comes through him. He's technically a Squib who's only four generations removed from a wizarding ancestor: Simon Dagworth-Granger, who was the Squib brother of Hector Dagworth-Granger, founder of the non-Noble House of Dagworth-Granger and a very famous Potioneer. Simon's the one who dropped the Dagworth part, apparently out of anger towards his wizarding relatives. So anyway, Daddy … well, he wants to 'explore his heritage,' which I think means he wants to spend time among wizards and probably interact with them with the exact same level of sophistication that Mr. Weasley uses when he tries to talk to Muggles."
"Uh-huh," Theo said. "Except Mr. Weasley wants to meet people who don't believe Magic is real while your dad wants to meet people who are terrified of Muggles finding out that Magic is real. I can see how that might, well, go catastrophically wrong."
"Be that as it may, Hermione," Harry said, "I'll talk to Sirius and Reg and see what they think."
"Thanks, Harry. Well then, goodnight!" Hermione gave a friendly hug to each of the three in turn. Then, she stepped into the Floo and called out "Dan Granger residence!" before disappearing in a gout of flames.
"So," Amy said as the fire died down. "Which of you is asking her out first?"
"What do you mean?" asked Harry. "She's been over here for most of the summer."
"No, Cousin Harry! When are you asking Hermione out on a date?"
"What? Why? What? Who?" Harry answered unintelligibly. Amy rolled her eyes while Theo just laughed.
"Come on! You're totally into her! You both are! She's the only one who can hug either of you without making you flinch!'
"Hermione's just a friend, Amy," Theo said, even as his own face suddenly flushed with embarrassment.
"Indeed," Harry added. "My best friend, to be sure, but still just a friend."
"Wait! I thought I was your best friend!" Theo said with mock outrage.
"Nope, you're my unofficially adopted and highly annoying little brother. That bumps you right out of the 'friend' category." Harry turned to Amy.
"And besides, I've gotten much better at not flinching during hugs!" he said defensively.
Amy looked at him dubiously and then swiftly stepped forward to hug the boy. After about three seconds, he managed to relax and put his arms around his adopted little sister's back.
"See?" he said through gritted teeth. "I'm perfectly relaxed."
Amy sighed in exasperation. "Pitiful, Harry. Just pitiful." With that, she stepped back from Harry and moved towards the fireplace. "Right then. I'm going to pop over to the Weasleys and talk to Ginny for a bit. I'll be back in time for supper."
She tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the fire. "The Burrow!" she said with authority.
"Don't talk to Ginny about any secret stuff," Harry warned. "She's under oath, but I think the Twins are experimenting with magical listening devices."
Amy glanced back at him with a grin. "No fears, Cousin Harry! And also Adopted Cousin Theo! Ginny and I will have loads to talk about that has nothing to do with our super-secret conspiracy."
After she'd passed through the fire, Theo looked at Harry quizzically. "What do you suppose that was all about?"
"No idea," Harry said guardedly. "But for some reason, I sense impending doom."
Suddenly, both boys jumped slightly at the loud POP behind them.
"Dobby sincerely hopes that Dobby's arrival is not connected in any way to Master Harry's … doom." Harry's personal house elf had arrived bearing a silver platter with a sealed envelope on it. "But Dobby has a letter for Master Harry which arrived by owl this afternoon. Dobby can confirm that the missive itself is not doom-laden, though Dobby has, of course, not read the contents."
Harry and Theo looked at one another. Theo shrugged, and then Harry picked up the letter. He recognized the crest of House Greengrass on the front. After a brief hesitation, he opened it.
Later in Sirius's Room…
"So that's everything we talked about today," Regulus said. "How did Nymphadora's swearing-in go."
"Oh, fine," Sirius said. "No hitches of any kind. Plus, I got to see Amelia Bones again."
Regulus pursed his lips. "The Chief Auror? Sirius, please don't tell me she's one of your paramours from back in the day!"
"Okay, I won't tell you." Sirius smirked mischievously.
Reg closed his eyes. "Yes, I suppose I did walk straight into that one. Never mind. I don't wish to hear any sordid details about any past relations with Amelia Bones who is, what, ten years your senior?"
"Twelve, but who's counting?"
"You apparently," Regulus drawled. "Meanwhile, in other less prurient news, Severus asked me to relay a question to you."
"Oh? What does he want to know?"
"Only whether you've had any contact with Remus Lupin. Apparently, the man hasn't been answering any owls since he sauntered off back to Shangri-La or whatever."
"Shamballa," Sirius corrected.
"You may consider that included under 'or whatever.'"
The older brother laughed. "And to answer your question, no, I have not heard from Remus in months. But I'll send an owl to the Dalai Lama or the Grand Poobah or whoever runs Shamballa in the morning. I have to send one to Dumbledore anyway. It suddenly occurred to me that he might know what happened to my old motorbike."
"Sirius…!" Regulus began warningly, but before he could start on a lecture, there was a knock on the door.
"Enter!" Sirius called. It was Harry with Theo following behind. "Ah! And what can I do for my favorite godson?"
"Well, I've just gotten a letter containing a possible business opportunity, but I wanted some advice from a responsible adult. Unfortunately, Artemus Podmore bills time-and-a-half on the weekends, so I had to settle for you two."
"You wound me, Harry!" Sirius said dramatically. "What's up?"
Harry held up the letter he'd just received. "What would you say if I told you that Teen Witch Weekly wants to do a cover story on me?"
Fifteen minutes earlier, at the Burrow
"Of course I would love to have young Jim here help out, Lady Potter," said Molly.
"Please, call me Lily," said Jim's mum kindly.
"Of course, Lily, dear! But … well, I can only pay a Galleon a day right now. And it'll be very demanding work!" Molly turned to the Boy-Who-Lived who was presently sitting next to Ron with an eager, pleading expression.
Aside from Jim's desire to find gainful employment so that he could earn spending money of his own, Molly's Magical Morsels would have a food stall set up at the Quidditch World Cup, and from the way Ron and the Twins talked, there was plenty of time between their shifts to watch some of the matches. Earlier that day, Ron had gotten to see the entire Chudley-Jamaica match. And with very good seats … since the Cannons barely filled a quarter of the stadium. Jim tried not to dwell on the fact that a year earlier, he and his father had talked of camping onsite for the whole three weeks, with VIP box seats for the whole event.
"That's all over for now," he thought. "Let it go. At least until you can find a way to get it all back!"
"You can count on me, Mrs. Weasley!" he said aloud. "I'm no stranger to hard work!"
Nearby, the Weasley Twins glanced at one another and smirked. From their own experience, Jim Potter was likeable enough and incredibly talented on a broom but otherwise somewhat lazy and spoiled. And as far as they could tell, he wasn't so much a stranger to hard work as someone who probably wouldn't recognize hard work if it knocked on his door while wearing a name tag. But Ron had been worried all summer long about how his best friend was handling everything that had happened lately, and it would do both boys good to spend some time together at the Cup, so they kept their opinions to themselves.
"Still, Jim," said Molly cautiously. "I'm a little concerned about having someone as famous as you working in my little stall. I mean, it'll no doubt be good for business—not that I would ever want to take advantage of your fame, Jim—but will it be safe for you there? I won't actually be on hand, you see, as I'll be handling the catering side of things. Of course Bill and Charlie will be taking turns managing the stall …"
"How did you rope them into helping out?!" Ginny asked in amazement.
"Oh, there was no roping involved, Ginny," she said. "They're both good boys who love their Mum!"
All four of the Weasley children in the room assumed matching expressions of dubiousness.
"And also … I may have said that if they helped out, I would promise not to comment on either their romantic partners, their career choices, or their hairstyles for a full year."
Fred whistled. Coming from Molly Weasley, it was a very generous offer.
"Anyway, Lily, are you not concerned about whether your Jim will be safe under those working conditions?"
Lily sighed. "I always worry about Jim. That part's unavoidable. But nearly every Auror and hit wizard in Britain will be on hand, plus the Ministry is deputizing half the DMLE to act as additional security. However, if you're still worried, we could always come up with some sort of disguise for Jim."
She smiled at her son who simply rolled his eyes at the thought of there being any sort of disguise that could keep people from recognizing the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Ah!" Fred said sharply before bolting out of the living room and up the stairs. He returned about thirty seconds later clutching a vial in his hand. George's own face lit up.
"Is that …?" he asked with a grin.
"It is!" Fred answered with a matching smile before handing the vial to a suddenly nervous Jim.
"What is it?" he asked doubtfully.
"It's the perfect disguise!" the Twins said in unison.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Potter," one said. "It's 100% safe and thoroughly field tested!" said the other.
After a moment's hesitation, Jim shrugged and threw back the vial without a care. It was hardly the first prank item from the Twins he'd consumed. There had been that Ton-Tongue Toffee they'd gotten him to try earlier in the summer, after all. A second after he downed the potion, he hiccuped loudly.
And then, he promptly went ginger.
Jim's hair turned a brilliant orange-red, freckles popped out all over his face, and his nose broadened in shape to match Ron's. Except for his distinctive glasses and the world-famous "V" scar on his face, Jim could easily pass for a member of the Weasley family!
Despite herself, Lily laughed. Meanwhile, Jim jumped up to check his own face in the nearest mirror before laughing himself.
"It lasts for twelve hours," said Fred, "but there's an antidote if you want to end it early. Though honestly, I can't imagine why anyone would ever want to surrender those noble features!"
The group's general levity was suddenly interrupted by an angry voice coming down the stairs.
"For pity's sake!" Percy exclaimed as he came down the stairs to the landing in a huff. "I am trying to work up here! Can you please—OH!" He stopped abruptly on seeing Lily. "Oh, I do apologize. I didn't know we had company."
"Hey, Mum?" Fred inquired. "Bill and Charlie are coming in to help run your food stall, Mum, and the rest of us plus Jim are your paid minions. But why isn't Perfect Ex-Prefect Percy helping out?"
"Pfft!" Percy snorted. "Who do you think has been doing Mum's accounts every other night after I get in from a long day at the Ministry? But we're short-staffed this week—Bertha Jorkins is apparently out sick. Mr. Crouch was furious. Of all the times to lose his most valued employee!"
"I was in school with Bertha!" exclaimed Molly, whose children often suspected that she somehow knew everyone in Wizarding Britain. "Clever girl. Memory like a Jobberknoll's."
"Unfortunately," Percy added, "the problem with having a perfect memory is that you forget to write things down. She was the one who liaised between Mr. Crouch and," he sniffed disdainfully, "Ludo Bagman about the Cup's scheduling and security arrangements. It's taking three other people from the DIMC to fill in for her in keeping the Cup on schedule and free of international incidents!"
Then, he barked out a laugh. "Though it's probably too late for an international incident, I think."
"What do you mean?" Jim asked.
"I really can't say, I'm afraid. But check out tomorrow's Prophet. I'm sure it'll be front page news."
"Still, Bartemius is pulling you in to help with international relations?" Lily asked. "That's very impressive, Percy."
He coughed and blushed. "Well, it's more like he's pulled me in to deal with all the secondary projects that are supposed to belong to the people he's reassigned to handle international relations. Which is why right now, I'm trying to finish a report on international standards for cauldron thickness that's due by Monday."
"Oh yeah," Ron snickered. "That'll change the world, that report will. Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect."
Percy looked down his nose at his youngest brother.
"You might sneer, Ron, but unless some sort of international law is imposed, we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottomed products that Merlin's Bones, I'm boring myself with the sound of my own voice!"
Everyone laughed at that, including Percy himself.
"Still, work is work," he said. "And I'd best get back to mine. Lady Potter, a pleasure to see you again."
He bowed gallantly and then returned to his room. But then, before the conversation could resume, the Floo lit up, and a voice could be heard.
"Ginny, it's Amy! Can I come through? I've got gossip to share!"
Ginny glanced around the room. In particular, she noticed that both Lily and Jim stiffened at Amy's voice. After an instant's consideration, Ginny decided to live dangerously.
"Sure, Amy! Come on in!" Then, she turned to Molly with an innocent expression. "Oh! It is okay if Amy comes to visit, isn't it, Mum?"
"Of course, dear," replied Molly, who seemed placidly unaware of the responses that Amy's name provoked in her guests.
A second later, Amy Wilkes stepped out of the Weasley's Floo and dusted herself off before looking around the room. She was surprised to see Lily Potter present and utterly flummoxed to see a redheaded and befreckled Jim Potter as well.
"Oh, am I interrupting something?" she said mildly. "Jim's makeover, perhaps?"
The Ginger-Who-Lived fumed but did not rise to the bait.
"Nothing I need to be here for, I think," said Ginny as she rose from the couch and headed for the stairs. "So let's go up to my room and talk. Now what sort of gossip have you brought for me?"
Amy glanced back to the four Gryffindor boys still sitting in the living room and smirked.
"Well for starters, Draco Malfoy is back in town, and he is hot, hot, hot!"
Instantly, she and Ginny both broke out into a fit of giggles at the sight of Jim's face, which was almost as red as his hair.
Beside him, Lily was more thoughtful as she considered Percy's remarks and wondered what sort of "international incident" would be in the next day's papers.
13 August 1994
AUSTRALIA'S ADVANCE TO QWC QUARTER-FINALS
HERALDS DARK LORD'S RETURN!
By Andrew Smudgley, Staff Writer
The accompanying article was as histrionic and provocative as one might expect from the paper even in the absence of Rita Skeeter, who was still on leave. The writer harshly attacked both Ludovic Bagman and Barty Crouch for their mutual lapses in judgment during the negotiations that led to the Quidditch World Cup returning to British soil. For part of the price paid for that honor was that Wizarding Britain was required to grant full diplomatic immunity to any foreign officials who attended the event as official representatives of the nations that made it past the Preliminary rounds.
What neither Bagman nor Crouch nor any of the other negotiators considered was that the Australian team might actually stage an upset win and make it into the Quarterfinals. Which, in turn, opened the door for the Dark Lord Alexander McAvity to return to Wizarding Britain for the first time in over twenty-five years. And indeed, the notorious Muggleborn Dark Lord was scheduled to arrive by International Portkey that morning in time to attend the Australia-Uganda match later that night. The rest of the article was full of lurid accounts of McAvity's notorious history: his "dangerously subversive anti-Pureblood agenda," a list of the various crimes of which he was accused prior to his flight from Britain (but, conspicuously, for which no evidence of his guilt was mentioned), and an exhaustive account of the terrorist activities to which his acolytes resorted after his expulsion.
In fact, the article about Alexander McAvity and his return to Britain was so sensationalistic and over the top that few readers even noticed the much smaller headline above a brief article buried on the bottom of page 4.
GOBLET OF FIRE ARRIVES IN UK
TO BE DISPLAYED AT WORLD CUP FINALS
Elsewhere …
Mr. Norvegicus grinned as he set the newspaper aside. "The Cup's here, and right on schedule. It will be in place by noon."
"Of course," said Mr. Nemo as he finished up the last of his scrambled eggs and toast before washing it down with some pumpkin juice. "I never doubted it. Mr. January hasn't failed us yet."
"Please …" moaned the woman. Though she shared a table with the two Death Eaters, she could not partake of breakfast on account of the heavy ropes which bound her tightly to her chair.
"And McAvity's here as well!" Mr. Norvegicus exclaimed with a laugh before pausing and furrowing his brow. "Hang on. Did we actually arrange that? Or was it just luck?"
"We did nothing to ensure the Australians made it to the Quarter-Finals. And we certainly did nothing to encourage the Australian government to deliberately snub the British Ministry by sending McAvity as part of their delegation. Even our Lord was surprised by the news."
"Let me go … please … I want to go home …"
Mr. Norvegicus's eyes gleamed in cruel delight, even as he ignored the woman's whimpers. "So … luck then. A good omen, I think. Everything would have worked out anyway, I'm sure, but for McAvity to show up? Here and now?"
"Oh yes," Mr. Nemo replied. "That, my friend, is Fate shining down upon us!"
Mr. Norvegicus wiped his face with his napkin. "True. Then again, Fate helps those who help themselves. So shall we get back to it?"
"No … no … I beg you …"
"We shall indeed!" Mr. Nemo exclaimed jovially before pulling out his wand and pointing it at the weeping, broken woman sitting across the table from him. "LEGILIMENS!"
And Bertha Jorkins screamed once more.
Next: Against the backdrop of the World Cup, the Death Eaters strike!
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