A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.
Somehow, with help from all the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry, Genevieve made it up to the Top Box for the game. She looked around, ads flashing across a blackboard, the large stadium filling up rapidly, and Harry talking to a house elf?
Shaking off the confusion, she continued examining her surroundings, until her eyes settled on a rather amusing show. The Top Box they were in continued to be flooded with high-ranking wizards, and Percy scrambled to his feet so often one would think a hedgehog occupied his seat. Genevieve jabbed the twins, who were sitting near her, and the three of them watched with glee, sniggering when Percy broke his glasses bowing to the Minister.
Soon after, the Malfoys entered the Top Box, and, by some miracle, Genevieve managed to keep her temper in check (she doubted it would be wise to insult guests of the Minister of Magic), even when Mr. Malfoy made derogatory comments to Mr. Weasley.
Ludo Bagman strode in.
"Everyone ready?" he asked excitedly. "Minister - ready to go?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo," Fudge replied.
Bagman cast the spell and, with his voice echoing across the stadium, announced, "Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
The huge blackboard that had, seconds before, read Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans — A Risk With Every Mouthful! now proudly displayed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.
"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce . . . The Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"
"I wonder what they've brought," Mr. Weasley said with interest, perched on the edge of his seat. "Aaah! Veela!"
Genevieve watched with half amusement and half disdain as a hundred veela swarmed the field and began dancing. Most of the men around her were captivated, nearly drooling, and, as the veela increased their speed, started attempting crazy stunts, Harry nearly jumping from the Top Box.
As they finished, there were roars of protest. But it didn't last long before Bagman continued.
"And now, kindly put your wands in the air . . . for the Irish National Team Mascot!"
Leprechauns swarmed the field, forming a shamrock from which gold rained.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch team! I give you - Dimitrov!"
Players in red flew onto the field as Bagman introduced them.
"Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand - Krum! And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!"
The Irish team, dressed in green, zoomed onto the field at Bagman's mention.
And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"
Mostafa entered the field, mounted his broom, and kicked the crate, releasing the four balls.
"Theeeeeeeey're OFF! And it's Mullet! Troy! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"
It was the most impressive game Genevieve had ever seen, though it was rather hard to see it. The Chasers tossed the Quaffle between themselves at such a speed that Bagman could only say their names. Genevieve's head whipped back and forth so much that she went dizzy.
"TROY SCORES! Ten zero to Ireland!"
Ireland's Chasers were incredible. They worked as one unit, scoring twice more in the next ten minutes. The Bulgarian Beaters, though, were ruthless, forcing Ireland to scatter on several occasions. Bulgaria scored.
"Dimitrov! Levski! Ivanova - oh I say!"
The Seekers for both teams plunged to the ground at such an angle that Genevieve wondered if all the players would make it out alive. At the last possible moment, Krum changed direction, but Lynch crashed to the ground with a sickening thud. He was feinting, Genevieve thought.
"It's a time-out!" cried Bagman, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"
"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said comfortingly to Ginny, who was staring after Lynch, wide-eyed. "Which is what Krum was after, of course . . ."
Lynch stood back up after a while, much to the relief of Genevieve and those around her. In just fifteen minutes, Ireland had scored ten more goals. Bulgaria continued to play dirtier.
"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper for cobbing - excessive use of elbows! And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"
To distract him from the game, the veela were dancing again, hypnotizing Mostafa, who was showing off his muscles and mustache. Genevieve choked back a laugh.
"Now we can't have that! Somebody slap the referee!"
A mediwizard, careful to keep his own fingers crammed in his ears, marched over to Mostafa and kicked him, bringing the referee back to earth. Mostafa looked furiously at the veela, shouting.
"Unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascot! Now there's something we haven't seen before . . . Oh this could turn nasty . . ."
The Bulgarian Beaters landed next to Mostafa and began arguing with him over the right to keep their mascot. The leprechauns spelled out "HEE, HEE, HEE."
"Two penalties for Ireland! And Volkov and Vulchanov has better get back in those brooms . . . yes . . . there they go . . . And Troy takes the Quaffle . . ."
After several more fouls for Ireland and a broken nose for Krum, Lynch plummeted to the ground, having seen the Snitch. Krum was right behind him, blood gushing from his nose. Once again, Lynch collided with the ground, and countless furious veela charged him.
"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" Charlie yelled.
Harry answered. "He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!"
The scoreboard read BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170, and it took a second for everything to sink in before chaos broke out.
"IRELAND WINS! KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS - good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"
"Two people were," Genevieve muttered.
"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!"
It had taken - and exhausted - two wizards to carry the substantial trophy into the room and to Fudge.
"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!"
Everyone cheered for the teams; the twins looked particularly pleased as they collected their winnings.
•~0~•
They talked animatedly late into the night, practically reliving the game, only stopping when Ginny fell asleep at the table and Mr. Weasley insisted they all go to bed. Genevieve, Hermione, and Ginny stumbled back to their tent, yawning. She changed into her nightdress and collapsed into bed, falling asleep almost immediately.
"Get up!" She was forced awake by Mr. Weasley's voice, which sounded extremely panicked. "Girls, you've got to get up, hurry!"
They rushed out of the tent, Genevieve just managing to grab her coat, completely forgetting her crutches. What she saw thoroughly disgusted her; men in masks were terrorizing Mr. Roberts and his family.
"We're going to help the Ministry!" yelled Mr. Weasley, Percy, Bill, and Charlie already running off. "You lot - get into the woods and stick together. Be careful, watch after Genevieve. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"
"C'mon," urged Fred, and they all followed him into the wood, Genevieve leaning heavily on Ginny. They continued into the woods, only stopping when a snake and skull illuminated the sky, and they all froze. The Dark Mark. Genevieve gasped for a break. As they sat down, she noticed something.
"Where're Ron, Harry, and Hermione?" she asked, alarmed. "I haven't seen them in a while."
"No use worrying about them now; they're smart, they'll find their way back," George said, though there was a hint of anxiety in his voice. One of them was his brother, after all. He waited a moment. "I reckon it's safe to head back."
"But - wait," Ginny said. "Dad said he'd come get us. We're supposed to stay put."
"Circumstances have changed, Ginny," Genevieve said gently, motioning to the sky.
"What is that thing?"
Genevieve sighed. "Something that nobody ever wants to see. Something that hasn't been seen for thirteen years . . ."
"The Dark Mark," Fred finished.
Ginny took that as explanation enough, for the moment, and she helped Genevieve to her feet. When they reached the tents again, Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already there. All of them were seemingly injured, Bill with a heavily bleeding arm, Percy with a bloody nose, and Charlie's shirt ripped.
Charlie stood up, strode across the tent, and hugged her tightly.
"Are you okay?" he whispered in her ear, still holding on.
"I'm fine," she assured him, though her voice shook slightly. "I just need my crutches."
He looked her deep in the eye, an unnaturally serious expression on his face, and nodded grimly, leaving and returning with them in hand. She thanked him, and sat down next to Bill at the table.
Fred explained about losing the others in the calamity, and they understood. Suddenly, Charlie stuck his head out of the tent.
"Dad, what's going on? Fred, George, Gen, and Ginny got back okay, but the others -"
"I've got them here," responded Mr. Weasley as he stepped into the tent, Harry, Hermione, and Ron just behind him.
"Did you get them, Dad?" Bill asked. "The person who conjured the Mark?"
"No. We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."
"What?" said Bill, Charlie, and Percy in unison.
"Harry's wand?" Genevieve and Fred asked incredulously.
"Mr. Crouch's elf?" Percy was absolutely astonished.
They explained the events in the wood, and Percy insulted the elf for running off. Hermione, for once, argued with him.
"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" Ron interjected. "It wasn't hurting anyone . . . Why is it such a big deal?"
"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," Hermione said. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."
"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," Mr. Weasley added. "Of course people panicked . . . it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."
He explained that the Dark Mark was conjured whenever Death Eaters left someone dead, and the fear that came with it. The Dark Mark had effectively scattered the ones messing with the Robertses, as those Death Eaters had all renounced Voldemort in an effort to stay out of Azkaban.
After a while, Genevieve returned to her bunk, unable to sleep.