Not long before Harry's second birthday, the Quidditch World Cup takes place in Spain, and James decides that he, Sirius, and Remus should take the young boy to go watch. Even though he has more than enough money to buy a prime tent location, James decides that it would be infinitely more fun to camp out for a few days to get the whole experience. Surprisingly, he had never been to a World Cup before – his parents weren't very fond of the sport so refused to take him as a child and later there were other things, there was the war – and he's so excited, it's like he's a young child again himself.
They arrive the Monday before the match and set up a tent (Lupin had purchased it at the superstore nearest to them and spent two weeks enchanting it with undetectable enlargement charms and protection spells), taking it in turns to keep a close eye on Harry. The situation is a little delicate, all three of them are aware that there are still Death Eaters on the loose, some who would give their right hands to finish what Voldemort had set out to do. So they watch, and they don't let the boy out of their sight, and they each alter their appearances just enough (James turns his hair to a light, mousy brown color and changes his eyes from blue to green, gives Harry the same color hair and brown eyes, Lupin lengthens his nose and thickens his eyebrows, wearing different glasses than he would normally, while Sirius shortens his hair to a buzz cut and grows out a lengthy beard). It's surprising how well these small changes conceal them.
The week is full of drinking and games, and Sirius and Remus sit around socializing with the other parents of children just as much as James (at this point, they're really much more like fathers than "uncles" anyway). They see little Seamus Finnigan, his father looking thoroughly overwhelmed by the magical community, and meet a little boy names Oliver Wood who seemed more than a little obsessed with Quidditch. Amelia Bones is there with her family, and of course, Amos Diggory, who would never miss an opportunity to demonstrate his standing. Harry flies around on his little toy broomstick, though he was getting a little old for it (the tips of his toes were starting to skim the grass), pleased as punch by his surroundings.
Saturday morning, Harry wakes at the first sign of light, jumping up and down on James' chest until he groggily rubs his eyes and pushes himself into a seated position.
"Daddy!" the little boy shrieks happily, "Daddy, breakfast!"
"Shh, Harry, let's not wake the whole camp," James reprimands, getting to his feet and taking his son's hand. "What would you like to eat this morning? Bangers and mash? Bacon and eggs? Toasted brioche?"
"Eggs! Eggs, eggs, eggs!" Harry starts chanting over and over, and James hears Sirius turn over and cover his ears with his pillow with a groan (he never was a morning person).
"Harry, I told you, it's quiet time right now." He sighs in exasperation as he moves outside with all the necessary items, Harry trailing along behind him every step of the way. James grills up a few pieces of toast for them, then fries a pound of bacon, and lastly cooks several eggs, making what he feels is certainly a very nice breakfast for the four of them.
Lupin is the first to exit the tent, yawning and stretching his arms high above his head as he does, sniffing at the air.
"Bacon and eggs?" he says, his tone mockingly condescending.
"There's toast too!" James replies, faux insult colouring his voice, despite the smirk on his face. "I'm not the culinary genius, mate. If you wanted something more sophisticated, you should have gotten your backside out of bed a little earlier."
"Daddy, food!" Harry whines, tugging on James' pants, and he scoops a helping of the food onto a plate for the little boy. Subsequently, he doles out servings onto plates as Remus ventures back into the tent to rouse Sirius. When they both emerge, Sirius is in the form of a shaggy black dog, and Harry squeals with happiness and claps his hands.
"Finish eating first, Harry, then you can play," James instructs, as he holds out a plate for Sirius, who doesn't even bother changing back to his human form, instead just lapping his tongue over it, slobbering everywhere as he wolfs down his food. When James is satisfied that Harry has eaten his entire breakfast, he helps him clamber onto Sirius' back, at which point the shaggy black dog begins gamboling about with enthusiasm, though always careful not to hurt Harry. When Harry eventually rolls off Sirius' back and onto the ground, he flops down beside the little boy and buries his wet nose in the child's belly, wiggling back and forth the way a human might if they were blowing raspberries. After a few more minutes of play, Sirius disappears into the tent to return to his human form and make sure his disguise is in order before exiting once again to lounge with them in the grass.
More people are starting to awake and emerge from their tents now, stretching away sleepiness as the buzz of excitement that comes with game day begins to grow and fill the air with electricity. Around lunchtime, people start filing into their seats (the better your seats, the later you get to show up), and the four boys watch people pass them as they eat their lunch. Lupin somehow managed to whip up a delicious paella ("While in Rome…" he says when Sirius asks why they're not just having sandwiches), and fills little Tupperware containers with chicken and potatoes for later, not trusting the stadium vendors to be selling anything up to his standards for dinner (they eat it happily, though James and Sirius also insist on buying copious amounts of junk food while Remus rolls his eyes next to them).
They take their seats around 5pm, high up in the stadium (almost to the top), the chatter of the crowd almost a roar. At precisely 6 PM, the lights around the stadium dim and darkness falls, a hush settling over the crowd, and after a few seconds, bright beams of light pierce the sky, moving back and forth as the announcer proclaims the opening of the World Cup finals, introducing each nation's mascot in turn. First is Morocco, and from their side of the pitch floated up what looked like a large burgundy balloon, in the center a large black star, and then it began flicker a rainbow of bright colors before bursting apart as a hundred four foot long birds with brilliant plumage flew in circles over the crowd, singing harmonic notes that made James feel feather light. The birds began landing, one perching on the railing right in front of him and he reached out a hand to touch it, starting to feel a little giddy, but Remus stopped him.
"Their song, it will make you go insane unless you silence them," he instructs, raising his wand, but at that moment, the birds all stopped in unison, clamping their beaks shut as though given a cue by an unseen witch or wizard.
"What are they?" Sirius asks, James shaking his head as though to clear it.
"Fwoopers," Remus replies, giving James a pitying glance.
He doesn't have enough time to explain before Poland's mascot arrives in the form of a huge red eagle popping up from the Quidditch pitch. A closer look reveals little men dressed all in red digging their way up from underground, leaving holes bored into the ground. The crowd is in an uproar, but their anger soon fades when it becomes apparent that as soon as the creatures leave their tunnel, it closes up behind them, and all is forgiven when they disperse and start tossing rubies and pearls into the crowd. Shrieks echo through the stadium as the little men pop up under people's seats, scattering more of the precious stones around. Harry delights in picking up as many as he can, though James quickly takes them from him before he can swallow them. After a few minutes, the little creatures dissipate and can be seen taking their place near the Polish goalposts.
"Karzełek," Lupin explains, "a bit like leprechauns, but for miners."
The announcer's voice rings out over the stadium again, ready to introduce the players.
"First, for the Moroccan side – captain Samir Benjelloun! Yahir Abergel! Yesenia Azoulay! Naima Bakir! Aden Bouazizi! Sanaa Harrak! Amira Hikmat!*" Seven figures fly onto the pitch wearing fluttery black robes that cover all but their eyes, tendrils of fabric streaming behind them in all directions, silvery-red letters on their backs proclaiming the names that had just been announced and the only thing distinguishing one from another.
"And now, the Polish team – captain Bogumil Tomczyk! Pelagia Badowski! Domicylla Bednarek! Gwidon Kapel! Elwira Kolodziejski! Maciej Wieczorkowski! Baltazar Zmijewski!+" Seven more figures, this time in clean cut, bright red robes fly out from the other end of the pitch, their broomsticks all painted a crisp white (a closer inspection would show each player's name and an eagle emblazoned in red on the tips of their brooms).
"Last, but certainly not least, this year's referee – Vasilios Nikodemus Kyriakos!" The captains of each team land in the middle of the pitch with the referees, while the rest of the team members lined up ten meters behind their respective captains.
After the necessary traditional pleasantries were exchanged, the captains returned to their teams and everyone took the positions for takeoff. Within a few seconds, the referee blows his whistle, and the players launch themselves into the air, their robes flapping behind them as they speed in all directions. Within two minutes, Poland is winning 30-10. After an hour, the score is 150-60 in favor of the Polish national team. Another hour and the score is 170-80, and the fouls are starting to become more blatant as both teams feel increasing pressure to win. The third hour passes and Morocco starts to catch up, the score 170-120, and violence between the two teams is rampant. After another hour and a half, one of Poland's beaters, Gwidon Kapel, slams his bat into Aden Bouazizi's face, and the latter is taken off the pitch for a full five minutes to be treated by mediwizards. Despite arguing that the blow was accidental, Morocco receives a penalty, which they make the most of, scoring another goal. After five hours, the score is tied at 190, and the game is starting to get very dirty. Several of the players have waved off the mediwizards, preferring to deal with their bloody noses and broken limbs in the form of renewed vigor, trying even harder to win the game. Harry's already started to doze off, his little body curled up in James' lap, and James has to admit he's not complaining – this is not the kind of Quidditch he wants his two year old son to witness. But around the sixth hour, when the seekers (Wieczorkowski and Azoulay) start showing signs that the capture of the snitch is imminent, James shakes Harry awake, knowing the boy would want to witness the end (he might also tell a little white lie and say he's only been dozing a few minutes, rather that two hours). When Yesenia Azoulay wraps her hand around the golden snitch and raises it high in the air (after a particularly spectacular bit of flying), Harry claps his little hands together and shouts in excitement, and in that moments, James knows his son is going to be a seeker, and a damn good one.
* /saMEER benjeLOON/, /yaHEER aberGEL/, /yeSAYneeuh ahzooLAY/, /NEH'eema baKEER/, /Ădin booahZEEZEE/, /SENah huhROCK/, /uhMEERuh hickMUT/
+ /BOHgooMEEL TOMchick/, /pellAHgeeuh BĂdovskee/, /DOMeeTILLuh BEDnahreck/, /GVEEdon KAHpell/, /elVEEruh kuhwahlJEEskee/, /MAHchee VEEdjorKOVskee/, /BALtazar zmeeYEVskee/