Chapter Nine: The Quidditch World Cup
Monday 25th August
The day of the cup arrived bright and sunny. Harry rose early. He hadn't slept well since the dream and though he had tried his best to look forward to the World Cup, he found his fear for Sirius overshadowing it. The dream kept replaying throughout his mind, keeping him wide awake at night. The words that Voldemort and his followers had said, made Harry worry continually. He hated the fact that Sirius wasn't taking the threat on his life seriously.
Nevertheless he did promise me that he wouldn't leave me…
Harry climbed out of bed, throwing on his jeans and t-shirt, picking up the rucksack he had packed the night before. Walking down the stairs he found his Godfather waiting in the lounge.
"Hey kid. Have a good sleep?" Sirius asked.
Harry shrugged. "It was alright."
"The dream is still bothering you, isn't it?" guessed Sirius.
Harry knew he couldn't lie to his Godfather. "Yeah, it is." He scratched the back of his neck. "I'm worried that I'm going to lose you. And something is going to happen…I can just feel it."
Sirius wrapped an arm around his Godson's shoulders. "Harry, Dumbledore has made sure that we will be under constant guard during our entire stay. The Aurors loyal to Dumbledore have agreed to keep a watch out for me. Nothing will happen, Harry. If it does, the Aurors will ensure that you and I can get away."
Harry blinked looking down. Finally he met Sirius' eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. Harry, you're not going to lose me. I'm going to keep on saying that until you believe me."
Harry swallowed. "I do believe you: I'm just worried. I can't help it. I get a home and someone is already trying to tear us apart."
Sirius smiled sadly. "I know. I'm scared myself. Part of me doesn't want to go to the Cup, but then that means we are letting fear rule our lives. Whatever happens, Harry, someone will always be trying to kill me to get to you. But I'm not going to die, not today anyway. Not until I'm old and wrinkly."
Harry managed a small laugh.
Around eleven Sirius and Harry took a Portkey to the grounds of the World Cup, arriving in the middle of a moor. Helping Harry to his feet, Sirius turned to face the two Wizards who stood in front of them. One held a long roll of parchment. The two Wizards looked slightly nervous at the presence of Sirius Black and Harry Potter, but they dealt efficiently with them, instructing them to go to the first field and ask for Mr. Roberts.
They strode through the field side by side, towards a distant cottage. As they neared it, the two discovered that a field just to the back of the cottage was filled with hundreds of tents. Stopping in front of a man at the gate to the field, Sirius handed over some money and was directed to the tent he and Harry were to share. They had been placed by the edge of the wood at the top of the field next to the Weasley's.
As the two made their way through the field, Sirius was aware of Witches and Wizards staring at them, pulling their children to safety. He blocked them out of his mind, ignoring the whispers that were following him. They reached their tent which was situated next to the Weasley's. The red haired family were sitting outside – Mr. Weasley was trying to light a fire.
"Hey Harry!" Hermione called from where she sat.
Harry grinned and replied: "Hello Hermione!"
The tent had already been set up for them and Harry and Sirius ducked inside to see what it looked like. Sirius watched as Harry's mouth fell open. The tent was split into three separate mini-rooms. Two were situated to the side, but the one they stood in now consisted of a table with two chairs, a kitchen area, and a small living area. Sirius moved off to the left, flinging open the flap that led into the two small bedrooms to the side. The tents had been provided by the Ministry of Magic which did explain why the tents had already been set up on arrival. Sirius had figured he would have to do it himself, but it seemed the Ministry was still afraid of him and wished to keep him pleased in any way they could.
By all accounts he had the right to sue the Ministry, but he wasn't going to. Dumping his back pack on the small put-up bed, Sirius exited the tent and joined the Weasley's. Harry was already chatting to Hermione.
Sirius sat between Arthur and Charlie chatting quietly about the Ministry. Every-so-often witches and wizards passed their group, sending frightened glances at Sirius, though a few did greet him and wished him well. Sirius tried his best to ignore the tension that was surrounding the entire camp-site. He hated feeling like someone who was untrustworthy.
When the merchandise cart came round, Sirius decided to buy a gift for everyone, which constituted all of the Weasley children (save for Percy, who declined) plus Hermione and his god-son a pair of Omnioculars. Arthur hadn't wanted to accept charity but Sirius had refused to back-down.
As evening came, the atmosphere grew excited. Even Sirius couldn't help grinning - despite the amount of people still muttering about his presence. He found himself recalling the Quidditch World Cup in 1978 when he, James, Lily, Remus and Peter had all gone to the final. It had been the summer they had officially left school and become adults.
Laughing, Sirius slapped James on the back, grinning madly. "I told you they'd win! You owe me some galleons mate!"
James scowled, but then smiled as he ruffled inside his pockets picking out one galleon and flinging it to Sirius, who caught it in his hand.
"Hey, the bet was if 'England lost but Brazil didn't get the snitch' you would pay me five galleons, not one!"
James chuckled. "And if you remember Padfoot, I don't have any more money. I spent it all on the food."
"Typical…you always have an excuse. That's so like you Potter."
"I resent that, you know!" James whacked him upside the head.
"What's Padsy done now?" Remus asked as he, Lily and Peter caught up with the duo.
"Acting like he has a brain the size of a pea," James replied.
Sirius scowled, but otherwise didn't react. It wasn't really worth it. Instead, he asked, "So when are we Apparating back to England?"
The Quidditch World Cup had been held in Brazil, so the five of them had Apparated over. It had taken a lot of work especially on Peter's part, but he had succeeded without splinching himself. Peter may not be as able at magic as the other four, but he had been one of the first to achieve Apparition during sixth year lessons, which had surprised everyone. Despite his latent magical abilities, Peter was proving himself to be capable in the world - he had after all gained a job in the Ministry of Magic that dealt with World Politics.
But then that achievement had been with the influence of Peter's father.
"There's one thing I am so not looking forward to when we get back to England," said Sirius, as they walked back along the path to the designated Apparition point.
"Working?" guessed Lily.
"Got it in one!" laughed Sirius.
"If you didn't want to work, why the heck did you choose to study to become an Auror?" Remus asked.
Sirius shrugged. "Let's just say I want to piss off my family."
"And the fact that you want to prove you are not like them is not your motive?" asked James slyly.
"Well, could be…" Sirius grinned.
"You're an ass, Pads." Remus replied.
"Yep, I know."
Shaking his head Sirius withdrew from the memory as a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at almost exactly the same time, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the pitch. Leaving the roaring fire going, Sirius, Harry, Hermione and the Weasley clan walked with the rest of the camp towards the Quidditch stadium, excitement bustling throughout the crowd.
Shouts of jubilation echoed around them as they made their way back to their tents.
The match was over with Ireland winning one hundred and seventy to Bulgaria's one hundred and sixty. It had been an incredible match to witness, probably one of the best in years. Sirius had spent the majority of the summer practicing with Harry, and with enough practice he reckoned his Godson would be able to acquire a place in a national Quidditch Team.
Harry was definitely good enough, by far.
Grinning, he and Harry slipped into their tent as they arrived back at the camp. Harry was way too awake to be sleepy. "Want a cup of Hot Chocolate?"
"Yeah." Harry was busily staring into the Omnioculars replaying the action from the match. "I've definitely got to try this out at home, Sirius. There's so much I could do but never realised before!"
Sirius laughed, remembering how James used to experiment with the Quidditch manoeuvres. "Let's just hope you don't do what your father did."
"What did he do?" asked Harry curiously.
"He tried a complicated move and he ended up falling off his broom and nearly - very nearly - breaking his back in the progress."
"Ouch." Harry sounded a little down-hearted.
"I'm sure if I cast some charms on your broom that would enable you to not fall off, and then it would be alright for you to try," replied Sirius.
"Really?" grinned Harry.
"Though Lily wouldn't approve, James would certainly do it if he was still alive…" Sirius trailed off, biting his lip. Memories assaulted him. He swallowed, ignoring the sudden images that were roaming through his mind.
"Are you okay?" asked Harry.
He's very observant. Just like Lily.
Sirius scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I am. Just memories, that's all." He smiled slightly. "Here's your drink." He handed his Godson a steaming mug of hot chocolate. "I'm just going for a stroll. I'll be back shortly."
Harry nodded. "Be careful."
As he departed from the tent, Sirius noticed the fear on his Godson's face. If someone was going to attempt to kill him, then Sirius preferred to deal with it on his own. It would be best to not involve Harry.
Though he already is involved, no matter how much I don't like that.
Sirius sat on a log at the edge of the forest, amongst the sky. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to shake the feeling of dread that was gathering. Something was going to happen. He just knew it.
Footsteps. The rustling of the wind.
Sirius whirled around, his eyes focused on the darkness within the forest. Someone was there. This is it.
Whipping out his wand he pointed it at the darkness, breathing slowly, waiting patiently. But then something hit him in the back and he went flying, his wand falling off to the side. Scrambling round he climbed to his feet only to come face to face with the man Harry had described to him from his dream.
It was not Bartemius Crouch, the man who had been found murdered in his home, but his son.
"This is not possible," whispered Sirius. "You're supposed to be dead."
"Maybe…" the figure responded, "but my time has not come yet." A wand was pointing straight at Sirius's chest. "Unfortunately, your time is up, Sirius Black."
To be continued...