The night of the match finally arrived, and the Funny Farm made their way to the stadium, from which spasmodic cheering and muffled roars were coming.

"Just a second, guys," Hannah said as they passed a drink stand. "I'm really thirsty. Wait for me, will you?"

"A drink sounds good," Mrs. Finnigan replied. "I think I'll have one, too."

"I wonder how good our seats are," Tanya said conversationally as Hannah and Mrs. Finnigan hurried to the booth.

"Terrible compared to mine," replied a sneering voice behind them.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Rachel snarled, but then her eyes fell on the girl standing next to him.

"Shelby!" Katelyn cried.

"I thought you dumped her, Malfoy," Tanya said coldly.

"Hey, I have the right to change my mind," he replied, putting his arm around Shelby, who blushed bright pink and giggled loudly.

If looks could kill, Katelyn would be standing triumphantly over Malfoy's dead body right now. But since they don't, she had to content herself with saying, "If you ever hurt her, Malfoy, I will not hesitate to castrate you with either a blunt needle or a wooden spoon—your choice. Are we clear?"

Malfoy thumbed his nose at them all, sneered, and stalked off, Shelby trailing along close behind.

-----------------------------------

"He needs to die," Seamus said calmly as they climbed the stairs inside the stadium.
"Who?"

"Malfoy, o' course."

Rachel grinned at his blatant Irishness. "That never gets old, Seamus."

"Yeah, well, you're the only one who thinks that," Seamus replied as they filed into their row. Nevertheless, his ears turned pink with pleasure.

Tanya slapped Rachel's shoulders in excitement. "Look! Look! It's starting! Where's your camera?"

Rachel dove into her bag as the voice of Ludo Bagman filled the stadium. "Ladies and gentlemen…welcome! Welcome to the final of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup!"

There was a great roar from the crowds, and Rachel started snapping away madly with her Muggle camera. "I've got twenty rolls of film," she explained breathlessly. "It cost me nearly sixty American dollars!"

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce—the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

"Bloody brilliant!" Seamus and Dean exclaimed in unison as a hundred-odd blonde bimbos pranced onto the pitch and began dancing. On Hannah's left, Dean got out his wand and pointed it at his neck; Seamus had gotten onto the back of one of the chairs and was poised to jump into the next box.

Then the music stopped, and both boys blinked and looked rather surprised to find themselves in those positions. All the same, they booed loudly as the veelas lined up against the sidelines.

"And now," Mr. Bagman continued, "kindly put your wands in the air…for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

The Funny Farm cheered mightily and waved their national anthem-playing flags over their heads as thousands of leprechauns zoomed overhead. "It's your kin, Seamus, it's your kin!" Rachel cried, snapping photo after photo.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome—the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you—

"Dimitrov!

"Ivanova!

"Zograf!

"Levski!

"Vulchanov!

"Volkov!

"Aaand…Krum!"

"The youngest person on the team," Dean bellowed over the roar of the crowds. "Only eighteen!"

"And now, please greet—the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting—

"Connolly!

"Troy!

"Mullet!

"Moran!

"Quigley!

"Aaaannnd…Lynch!"

Seamus and Mrs. Finnigan hooted and hollered; it was hard to believe that Mrs. Finnigan was five months pregnant, she jumped up and down so exuberantly.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!

"And they're off! And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

The Funny Farm shouted themselves hoarse as they witnessed the most brutal game of Quidditch any of them had ever seen before. The Bulgarian Beaters were bashing those Bludgers so hard that Rachel stopped cheering and wondered aloud just how many push-ups she'd need to do to be able to do that.

"Who cares?" Seamus shouted as Ireland scored.

The rest of the match was just as stupendous as the beginning. Ireland won ("O' course!" Seamus bellowed, hugging Rachel exuberantly in his excitement) but Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker, got the Snitch, ending the game with a spectacular catch.

"Now, if only we could teach Rachel to play like that," Dean said good-naturedly as they left the stadium, the roar of the celebrating Irish all around them.

"Hey!"

Seamus slung an arm around her shoulders and patted her hand. "Don't take it personally, my dearest Sushi. The longest journey begins with a single step."

"Are you saying I'm that bad?" she snarled.

"Of course not!" he replied with an energetic grin. "I'm just saying that there's plenty of room for improvement."

"I'd stop if I were you," Dean said warningly.

Seamus glanced at Rachel's face—then did a double take. "You do know I was joking, right, Hekman?" he asked nervously.

"Of course," she replied with a sweet smile. "That's why I'll kill you quickly." But her face broke into a sincerely happy grin. "Actually, I rather enjoy having you all around. Maybe I'll wait to kill you."

"I suppose that's a relief," Haley sighed.