Shockingly, I must reveal that I do not own Harry Potter.

The next afternoon at two, Harry and Tonks took their portkeys to the Brocken sports complex in Germany. The stadium there was a much more durable affair than the world cup stadium. The ticket man glanced at their tickets, then bowed deeply. "Mr. President, welcome to the Brocken. Mr. Krugel will be here in a moment."

Harry heard Tonks breathing hard. She elbowed him into the side. "He's the president of the European Quidditch Association."

A moment later, a very well dressed man of about sixty apparated in front of them. "Mr. Potter. I may call you Harry, right?"

Harry was very well aware that he wore no business robes, but only some Bulgarian fan-clothes that his incomparable bodyguard had somewhere organised. "Mr. Krugel. It's an honour."

"Call me Franz, Harry. We are all sportsmen here. So you are cheering for Bulgaria?"

"Definitly. Victor has invited me to watch them."

The wizard nodded and began a short tour. The Brocken had been the centre of European broomsports since time immemorial, and a small museum was dedicated to the brooms of famous winners of quidditch, broomball, quodbad and racing competitions. It was rather interesting, and Harry would have loved to test out some of the experimental brooms on display.

"Even the muggles know something about it. In the middle ages, there were no big muggle repellents in place, and so everyone in Germany knows that witches meet on the Brocken with their brooms." He showed them a few dolls of ugly witches on brooms. "They still sell them all over the place here. But now, we have not had a sighting for more than a century. And we have more international games in our stadium than anywhere else in the world." The German official was obviously proud. "Now, Harry, we really must talk about your next tournament. Do you think that we can have some more broomsports in it? I mean, last time you were the only one to even use a broom. And more than 70 percent of all wizards sports use a broom."

Harry nodded. "I have been thinking about it. What I really don't want is quidditch being discontinued for another year. My friends would kill me!"

"Very good. Now, I have to see if the teams are all right. We see each other tonight at the victory party." He motioned to a young witch. "Angelika, please see that Harry and his guest have everything they need and bring them to the central balcony in time, ok?"

The witch nodded to him. "If you would please follow me? We have a small buffet for the officials."

At four in the afternoon, Harry was seated in the front row of the central balcony between Franz Krugel and the secretary of the Bulgarian quidditch association. A small plug in his ear allowed him to follow the announcer in English.

"Let me welcome you to the exhibition game between the Bleues, the French national team, and the Bulgarian nationals, European Champions and favourites for the Worlds next summer. I have talked with Jacques Duront, the French coach, this morning and he assured me that they are more than willing to take down Bulgaria. But first let me welcome some important fans: Ms. Emilia von Donnern, German minister of magic." Cheers rose when a middle-aged witch rose from her seat three places left of Harry's and waved into the crowd. "It must be sad for he to see that Germany has not been qualified for the world cup this time." Loud booing from the German fans answered. "Now, we have rock stars Jose Coras, Ted Walter and Juri Famoso." The cheers were much louder for them than for the politician. "And of course, from Britain, the President of the Federation International Trimagique, Harry Potter. The man whose flying has shamed Victor Krum in the Triwizard Tournament." Beet-red, Harry rose and waved, shocked at the amount of applause.

Then, the game was off. The weakness of the Bulgarian chasers in the last world cup finals was gone. Harry could easily see why they were the favourites. The French seeker was extremely good, but it was quickly obvious that he was out of his league when flying against Victor Krum. The Bulgarian made clear that he was the upper dog five minutes into the game when he let his opponent through a series of barrel-rolls right through the French chasers and beaters, leading to a slight collision between the French seeker and one of his chasers. Thirty minutes into the game, Harry saw something golden glitter close to the left upper stands. The aggressiveness with which Victor herded the Frenchman to the other side of the stadium made clear that he had seen it too, but considered it too early to finish the game. The crowd cheered loudly.

It was only at a standing of 210 to 90, almost two hours into the game, that Victor stopped harassing his opponent and started seeking in earnest. It did not take him long and with a beautifully executed dive, he caught the snitch, securing the total of 380 to 100. Harry cheered wildly with the Bulgarian section of the fans.

Twenty minutes or so later, Harry was led to a huge conference chamber where some of the players were already sitting on a long podium. Reporters called questions, which they answered more or less patiently. It was interesting to see how two successful national teams had been planning and organising their game, and it showed Harry again how much difference there was between being a successful team at Hogwarts and being an internationally success. Especially Victor seemed very happy with his victory and waved at Harry when he sat down. That led several of the reporters to turn to him. "So, Mr. Potter. Do you think that you could beat Mr. Krum?"

Harry looked around and pointed to an antique broom mounted on the wall with a plaque declaring that this broom had carried Saxon witch Heike Gronlund to the broomball Championships of 1562, 1563 and 1565. "Well, if you give him that broom and tie a hand behind his back, sure. I guess I might take three out of four snitches." The laughter in the room showed that he had gauged his audience correctly.

It went without saying that Harry and Tonks were guests at the Bulgarian victory celebrations. Victor clasped hands with him. "So you wouldn't even want to try beating me?"

Harry laughed. "Great game. And I would love to try. But while I might be the best seeker at Hogwarts, you still are the best in the world."

"It's just a matter of practise. Who's your friend?"

"Oh, sorry. That's auror Tonks, my security detail and good friend. We are cousins, after a fashion."

"Nice to meet you, auror. It must be trying to keep this wizard out of trouble."

Tonks smiled at him. "Even Harry can be trained."

"I would have thought that you would bring Hermione?" Victor's face got earnest for a second.

"She's on holiday in France. Otherwise, I would have tried to bring her."

"You two finally dating?"

"No, not yet."

A grunt answered. "I warn you. If you don't date her until autumn, I will try again. She is cute."

Victor personally introduced them to his teammates, and Harry did his best to see this party as a training field for Saturday. As Victor had said. It was all a matter of practise. Actually, after he had fought back his shyness, he found that he quite enjoyed this. Most of the players and guests were young enough to still have fun in fooling around, discussing their plays in detail and bragging about their chances for the upcoming world championships. As Harry was the only other seeker in the room, it didn't take too long to be dubbed "Mini-Victor" by the Bulgarian chasers. Life was fun.