Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for characters I created, like Charlotte.
Chapter 3
I must have fallen asleep, lying on Cedric's chest, in the grass, because suddenly it was starting to get dark out. Also, there was a loud horn-like sound and a million lanterns lit up, leading the path to the stadium. Cedric was still breathing heavily, and I was unsure about whether he was sleeping or not. I felt so comfortable just being with him. I've loved him as a brother since my first year, when we met because I tripped over air.
"Oh, hey, you're awake," Cedric said opening his eyes.
"How long was I asleep?"
"Not too long, I don't think," Cedric replied. "I fell asleep too."
I nodded and made a move to get off of him, but he shook his head. I lied back down on him, and his arms immediately went around me. I knew that we should be making our way to the stadium, but I was so comfortable, with him. His eyes were closed again and his hair fell into his face.
"Cedric, we should get going," I suggested. "We need to find our seats."
"I know," Cedric replied his eyes closed. "But I'm so comfortable here."
"I am too," I admitted. "But your father would kill us if we didn't show up, after all the money our parents spent."
"I know," Cedric sighed. "I guess we should go."
I got off of him and together we started walking towards the stadium, following the lanterns. I leaned on Cedric, and he let me, knowing that today was a long day, and that I've never been up this early for a long time.
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the gigantic stadium. We handed our tickets to a ministry official, who told us where our seats were. We made our way up the stairs to our seats. When we finally got there, Mr. Diggory was already standing there.
"I was wondering when you two would show up," Mr. Diggory said smiling.
"Sorry, Dad, we were, relaxing."
"Not in the tent," Mr. Diggory smiled knowingly.
"No, not in the tent," Cedric replied after a minute.
Cedric and I took our seats, next to each other. Mr. Diggory was talking to the man next to him, a business associate probably. I looked at the large billboard that's message was changing every few minutes.
"Dad?" Cedric asked.
"Yeah?" Mr. Diggory replied looking away from the man he was talking to.
"Who's the announcer this year?"
"Ludo Bagman," Mr. Diggory replied.
Cedric nodded as the announcer, Ludo Bagman began talking.
"Ladies and gentleman …welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World cup!"
Everybody started screaming and clapping and cheering around us. Cedric and I jumped up and started clapping and screaming. Mr. Diggory was screaming for Ireland, as was Cedric. I could hear the two countries singing their national anthems.
"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce…the Bulgarian Nation Team Mascots.
The right side of the stands, a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.
A hundred veela started gliding onto the field. Cedric and Mr. Diggory immediately put their hands in their ears, knowing what veela are known to do. The music started playing and the veela started dancing. All around us, men started doing stupid things. One man was about to jump over the railing, but his wife pulled him back.
The music finally stopped, and people started to come out of the trance the people were in. Cedric and Mr. Diggory took their hands out of their ears. People started yelling angrily. The crowd didn't want the veela to go. Specifically the men.
"And now," the announcer yelled, "kindly put your wands in the air…for the Irish National Team Mascot!"
The next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium and then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow suddenly arced across the field, connecting into two balls of light. The crowed oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. The rainbow faded and a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Galleons started falling over our heads.
"Leprechauns!" I exclaimed, "they exist?"
"Of course they exist, Charley," Cedric exclaimed, laughing, "they're here aren't they?"
"Oh shut up Cedric!" I pouted.
Cedric laughed as Mr. Diggory shook his head at us. All around us people were picking up the galleons. Cedric and I picked up a few. Mr. Diggory told us that they were fake, but we picked them up anyways for souvenirs. I liked the leprechauns a lot more than the veela. Leprechauns don't make people crazy, and try to jump over the railing.
The shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.
"Leprechauns are cute," I said.
"What?" Cedric asked me. He was looking at me like I was crazy.
"They're so little and cuddly looking."
"I'll never understand you," Cedric said. I stuck my tongue out at him.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome— the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you—Dimitrov!"
A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.
"Ivanova!"
A secret figure zoomed out.
"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand—Krum!"
The Bulgarians were wildly cheering as the Bulgarian's flew around the field.
"And now please greet—the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled the announcer. "Presenting—Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quiqley! Aaaand—Lynch!"
Seven green blurs swept onto the field. The Irish and Cedric, Mr. Diggory, and I burst out cheering for them. They did a lap around the field before stopping near the leprachuns.
"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"
A small and skinny wizard, completely bald, and with a huge mustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broom stick under the other. Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open—four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black bludgers, and the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast of his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.
"Theeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Ludo Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! LEvski! Moran!"
I could barely follow what was happening, everything was happening so fast. Cedric was watching intently.
"TROY SCORES!" roared Ludo Bagman. The stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!"
After that, the match became even faster, and more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were wacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.
Mr. Diggory and Cedric put their hands in their ears as the veela started to dance. After a few moments the veela stopped dancing and Mr. Diggory and Cedric took their hands out of their ears.
"Dimitrov! LEvski! Dimitrov! Ivanova—ih I say!"
One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had jumped from airplanes without parachutes. At the last second, Krum pulled out of the divce and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull htud that could be heard throught the stadium. A huge groan rose from the irish seats.
Mr. Diggory cursed loudly as the announcer said, "It's time out! As trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"
"Stupid Bulgarians," Cedric exclaimed. "That was a foul!"
"The games going to get more rough from here on out," Mr. Diggory said. "The Bulgarians are desperate since they're losing by so much."
"These plays are amazing!" Cedric exclaimed. "I could use these this year for our team!"
"Are you always thinking about Quidditch?"
"We're at a Quidditch match, Charley. What else should I think about?"
"I don't know, not Quidditch?"
"I really don't understand you."
"I know," I replied brightly.
A few minutes passed, when Lynch finally got to his feet and the Irish and their supporters shouted. He got onto his firebolt and got back into the air. The Irish seemed even more excited. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action.
After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier.
As Mullet shot towards the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarain Kepper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly that we didn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafas's long, shrill whistle blast, told us it was a foul.
"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing—excessive use of elbows!" Ludo Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And—yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"
The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "Ha, Ha, Ha!" The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance.
Mr. Diggory and Cedric put their hands in their ears, but it was short because the referee landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.
"Now, we can't have that!" The announcer exclaimed sounding very amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"
A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself. He seemed very embarresed and started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.
"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said the announcer. "Now there's something we haven't seen before…oh this could turn nasty…"
It did: the Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulvhanov landed on either side of Mostafa and bagan arguing furiously with him, gestivulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was obviously not impressed by their arguments. He was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.
The Bulgarians kept getting fouled throughout the rest of the game. The veela changed into their bird form and threw handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. A bunch of ministry wizards had to get onto the field to stop the veela and the leprechauns. They had little success doing this. The game continued furiously above them.
The Irish and Bulgarian seekers spotted the snitch and dove for it. Cedric was pressing himself against the railing. I feared that he was going to fall off the railing and fall to his death. I grabbed the back of his shirt, and he looked at me briefly before going back to the game.
"IRELAND WINS!"
The Irish exploded into cheers. Cedric and I started to cheer. The Irish team members burst into cheers while the Bulgarians congratulated them.
AN: I know this is late and a lot of this chapter was pulled straight from the book, but this will be one of the last chapters that basically comes straight out of the book, I promise. I know that its been two weeks, but I would like to know that at least one person wants to read this story. Please read and review!