AUTHORS NOTE :P

Getting closer to the actual World Cup match...

Now to answer some reviews...

AnkiaandAj: In my story, Angel isn't going to go psycho. Sorry :/ good idea though, with Angel joining Voldemort... but not in my story, I'm sorry.

Quail Sandwich: Read and find out...

anonymous: I know its spelled Portkey. I made a mistake. And yes, I watched the movie, but I've also read several times. I just made a mistake, and mispelled something. Sorry.

Philip: Yeah, I know. I always get confused with them... Although, I'd rather not get a beta for my own reasons. Maybe you could explain it to me? I never know the difference with homophones. Sorry if it annoyed you. I've never had a good English teacher, so it's difficult for me to understand the difference. So do you think you could explain them to me? I'd really appreciate it :)

So without further ado, here's the chapter :)

Enjoy!

-Rach ;)

Max's POV

I unwrapped my legs from Harry's, and jumped to my feet. We had landed in deserted, misty moore. In front of us were two extremely grumpy looking wizard, one was holding a watch, and the other a thick piece of parchment and a quill. Clearly, they had tried to dress like Muggles, but they weren't as successful as Mr Weasley had been. While Mr Weasley was wearing a faded pair of jeans, and a golfers jumper, the wizard with the parchment was wearing a tweed suit, and the other one was wearing a multi-colored kilt and a poncho.

I saw Nudge staring at the two wizards, disgusted. Nudge was obsessed with fashion, and seeing these two men in public wearing something like that was probably a great personal insult to her.

"Morning, Basil," Mr Weasley said to the man in the kilt. Nudge wrinkled her nose again. Mr Weasley picked up the boot and threw it into the box beside the wizards. In the box were other used Portkeys, like footballs and old newspapers.

"Hello, Arthur," Basil said, tiredly. "Not on duty, eh? It's alright for a few people. We've been here all night. You better get out of the way, there's a huge party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite- Weasley, Weasley..." he looked at his list, "About a quarter miles walk over that way. First field you get to. Ask for Mr Roberts, he's the site manager. Diggory...Second field...ask for Mr Payne."

"Thanks, Basil," Mr Weasley said.

We set off across the deserted moore, unable to see much in the heavy mist. After about twenty minutes of walking, we spotted a low stone wall, with a gate, beside a small cottage. Beyond it, there were hundreds and hundreds of tents. We said goodbye to the Diggorys, and approached the cottage.

A man was standing at the door, staring out at the tents. I could tell this man was a real Muggle. When he heard our footsteps, he turned to look at us.

"Morning!" Mr Weasley said cheerfully.

"Morning," the Muggle said, a vacant look in his eyes.

"Would you be Mr Roberts?" Mr Weasley asked.

"Aye, I would," Mr Roberts said, "And who would you be?"

"Weasley-three tents, booked a few days ago?"

"Aye," Mr Roberts said, checking his list. "You've got a space right by the woods. Just the one night?"

"That's it," Mr Weasley said, suddenly looking nervous.

"You'll be paying now then?" Mr Roberts asked.

"Ah-yes, certainly," Mr Weasley said, looking extremely nervous now. I knew why though. Mr Weasley didn't know Muggle money very well, so he was nervous about paying Mr Roberts.

He walked a bit away from the cottage, making it look like he had to get the money from his rucksack. He beckoned Harry over with him.

"Help me!" I heard him moan. He pulled out a fat roll of Muggle money, pulling the notes away from each other. "That's a- a ten, yes? Ah, yes I see the little number... And this is a five?"

"Twenty," Harry said, looking uncomfortable. Probably because Mr Roberts was listening to every word.

"Ah yes, so it is...I don't know, these bits of paper..." Mr Weasley said.

"You foreign?" Mr Roberts asked.

"Foreign?" Mr Weasley said, confused.

"Your not the first to have trouble with the money," Mr Roberts said, "I had two try to pay me with large gold coins not ten minutes ago."

"Did you really?" Mr Weasley said nervously.

"Well, yes, we're foreign," I said. The others stared at me, but I went on, "We're American," I said. Seeing as I my old American accent was still a bit stronger then the English one the flock were starting to get, it seemed believable.

"American? Right..." Mr Roberts said, rummaging around for change. "It's never been this crowded," Mr Roberts went on. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. Usually, people just turn up..."

"Is that right?" Mr Weasley said uncomfortably.

"Aye," Mr Roberts said, staring at the tent, "People from all over. Foreigners. Weirdos as well, you know. Bloke walking around here wearing a kilt and poncho."

"Shouldn't he?" Mr Weasley asked, reaching for his change, but Mr Roberts didn't give it to him.

"It's like a... I dunno, a sort of rally," Mr Roberts said, "They all seem to know each other. Like a party. A huge party."

At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours (Nudge looked like she was going to be sick) appeared out of nowhere beside Mr Roberts in his cottage.

"Obliviate!" he said, pointing his wand at Mr Roberts. Instantly, Mr Roberts eyes slid out of focus, and a look of dreamy unconcern came over his face. I was able to recognize the look of someone that had just got their memory modified.

"A map of the campsite for you," he said, handing Mr Weasley a map. "And your change."

"Thanks very such," Mr Weasley said.

The wizard in plus-fours accompanied us to the gate of the campsite. He looked exhausted. Once we were out of earshot of Mr Roberts, the wizard said, "Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a memory charm ten times a day to keep him quiet. And Ludo Bagman isn't helping. Strolling around shouting about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not worrying at all about any anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over... See you later, Arthur," he said, then walked back to Mr Roberts cottage.

"I thought Mr Bagman was the Head of Magical Sports and Games," Ginny said, "Shouldn't he know better then to talk about Bludgers and near Muggles?"

"He should," Mr Weasley said, walking through the gate towards all the tents. "But Ludo's always been a bit...relaxed about things like that. You couldn't ask for a more energetic Head of Department. Used to play Quidditch, himself, Ludo. Best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."

We walked through the misty field between long rows of tents. The tents were normal enough. Clearly the owners thought they'd make them as Muggle as possible, but they failed bu adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. Although, there were some tents that were so obviously magical I wasn't surprised Mr Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood something that could only be called a miniature palace, with several live peacocks outside.

A few several feet away from that one, was a tent with loads of turrets and three floors; further up from that was a tent with a huge front garden, complete with bird bath, fountain and sundial.

"Always the same," Mr Weasley said as I picked Angel up and placed her on my hip, "We can't help showing off when we get together. Ah here, look this is us."

We had walked to the very edge of the forest where there was an empty space with a small sign hammered into the ground saying WEEZLY.

"Couldn't have a better spot," Mr Weasley said, taking his bag off his shoulder and leaving in on the ground, "The pitch is right on the other side of the wood there. We couldn't get any closer. Right!" he said excitedly, opening his bag, "No magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when there are this many wizards in a Muggle site. We'll be putting these tents up by hand!"

The flock grinned at each other. We could all make tents with our eyes closed.

"Shouldn't be too hard. Muggles do it all the time...Here, Harry, where should we start?" Mr Weasley said. I stared in amusement at the look on Harry's face. He didn't have the slightest clue how to make a tent. This should be fun.

With the flocks help (in other words, the flock did all the work) the three tents were built within twenty minutes. We would of been faster if George and Gazzy didn't start a fight about who's water bottle was whos.

When we stepped back to look at our handiwork, we all seemed to notice a problem at the same time. The three tents were pretty small, and once Bill, Charlie and Percy got here, there would be sixteen of us. I shared a look with Hermione, who was looking quizzical.

"We'll be a bit cramped," Mr Weasley said. "The biggest tent is for the boys. Meaning that Fred, George, Ron, Fang, Iggy, Gazzy and Harry will be in there. The second tent is for the girls- Ginny, Max, Hermione, Nudge and Angel. The third tent if for myself, Bill, Charlie and Percy. Got it?"

We nodded and Mr Weasley said, "I think we'll all squeeze. Let's go in."

I ducked under the tent flap to the biggest tent, and my jaw dropped. You'd think after four years, I'd be used to all the different things magic could do. Guess I wasn't.

It looked like I had just walked into a three room flat, with bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom, with a shower. It looked like it belonged to an old person, and it smelled like it as well. There was also a strong smell of cats.

"Well, it's not for long," Mr Weasley said. "Borrowed it from Perkin's in the office. He doesn't camp much anymore," he said, looking at the bunk beds in one of the bedrooms. He picked up the kettle and said, "We're going to need to get water..."

"There's a tap marked on the map the Muggle gave us," Ron said, seeming unimpressed by the tent. "It's on the other side of the field."

"Why don't the flock, you, Harry and Hermione go get water? We're going to need a lot," Mr Weasley said. "And the rest of us will get wood for fire."

"But we've got an oven," Iggy said, "Why can't we just-?"

"No, Iggy," Mr Weasley said, "Anti-Muggle security! When real Muggle's camp, they on fires outdoors! I've seen it!"

When we had a tour of the other tents (the girls tent didn't smell like cats, thank God) we set off to get water with kettles and saucepans, Nudge chatting away happily.

Now that the sun had fully risen, we were able to see the city of tents that were stretched in every direction. We walked slowly through the tents, staring around us eagerly. It only seemed to be dawning on me now that there must be wizards and witches in different countries other then England.

Other campers were only starting to wake up now. I noticed the first to wake up were the families with young kids. Watching the little kids running around made me smile, and my smile broadened when Angel took my hand. She looked really tired, and was falling behind, so I picked her up again. She smiled at me, and I grinned. Then she started giggling. "What is it?" I asked, hoping Iggy wasn't having any dirty thoughts or anything.

She pointed to a pyramid shaped tent, and sitting outside it was a boy no older then two, giggling happily like Angel and poking a slug in the grass with a wand, and the slug was swelling to the size of a salami.

As we drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

"How many times, Kevin? You don't touch Daddy's wand- yecch!"

The mother had walked right onto the giant slug, which burst under her foot. Nudge mimed pucking. Her shouts followed us as we walked on, as well as Kevin's yells, "You burst slug! You burst slug!"

A bit further on, we saw two little girls, maybe a little older then Kevin, on toy broomsticks that were hovering a few feet off the ground so that the girls toes barely touched the grass. A Ministry wizard came hurrying past us, muttering, "Out in broad daylight! The parents are probably having a lie-in I suppose-"

All around us, adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents, cooking breakfast. Some, looking around them, using magic to cook. Others were using matches and lighters with confused, or dubious looks, as though thinking they couldn't work.

I slowed down a bit when I heard some American witches talking to each other under a banner that read, THE SALEM WITCHES INSTITUTE. I never knew there was a magic school in America... If there was, why did we all have to come to England? Well, it sounded like the Salem Institute was only for witches...

We caught snatches of conversations in languages I've never even heard before.

"Er- Is it me, or has everything turned green?" Fang asked.

I guess it wasn't. Everything around us was green. The tents were covered in giant shamrocks, and happy, excited voices could be heard through the tents. Then we heard someone shouting from behind us.

"Guys! Hey guys!" We turned around and saw Seamus Finnigan, another Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock covered tent with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and Dean Thomas, his best friend and another Gryffindor in our year.

"Like the decorations?" Seamus said, grinning, "The Ministry isn't too happy."

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colors?" Mrs Finnigan said, with an Irish accent. "You should see what the Bulgarians have over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she asked. We nodded, and the Gasman said, "Yeah, Irelands cool! They have, like, leprechauns and everything!"

Seeing as I didn't know if leprechauns were real or not, I wasn't sure how Mrs Finnigan would take it. But she laughed happily, and said, "Yes, leprechauns. Never get too close to one, though. They like kicking people's shins and taking their money."

After assuring Mrs Finnigan that we were all going to support Ireland, we left again. "I wonder what Bulgaria have over their tents," Harry said. "Let's go find out," Iggy said, pointing to a large patch of tents where the Bulgarian flag was flapping in the wind.

The tents in the Bulgarian side had not been covered in flowers, but with pictures of a cranky looking guy with thick eyebrows. But, if you took away the cranky expression, he was quite handsome. It looked like Hermione thought so too. She was staring at the closest poster of the dude, doing a goofy grin and there was a slight blush creeping on her cheeks.

Nudge and I shared a look, and grinned. Nudge giggled, and Hermione looked away from the poster, blushing deep crimson.

"Krum," Ron said quietly. "What?" Angel asked.

"Krum!" Ron said, "Viktor Krum! The Bulgarian Seeker!"

"He looks really grumpy," I said, surveying Krum in the poster.

"Really grumpy?" Ron said, mouth hanging open, "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable! He's really young, too. Only like, seventeen, or eighteen or something. He's a genius. Just wait till tonight and see for yourself. Grumpy!"

"I think someone has a man crush," Nudge said. "I do not!" Ron snapped.

"We'll just wait till tonight and see," I said, raising my eyebrows. Ron glared at me, and I winked at him.

There was already a small queue at the water tap. We joined it, behind two older wizards who were having an argument. One of them was wearing a pinstriped suit, and holding a pair of trousers in his hand. The other was wearing a long, flowery nightgown.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good lad. You can't walk around like that! The Muggle at the gate is already getting suspicious-" said the wizard with the pinstriped suit.

"I bought these in a Muggle shop," Archie said, "Therefore, Muggles wear them."

"Muggle women, Archie," exasperated the other wizard, "Not men. The men wear these."

"I'm not putting them on," Archie said, "I like a nice healthy breeze around my privates, thanks."

Hermione, Nudge, Angel and me started laughing and giggling so much we had to step away from the line. "He-likes-a-breeze-in-his-privates!" Nudge said, laughing so much she on the floor.

When we had recovered (it took some time. We aren't very mature) we walked calmly back to the line. Archie and the other wizard were gone, so we brought all the kettles and saucepans over to the tap and filled them all. When we were finished, we walked back to the campsite, slower now then before because of all the extra weight with the water. On the way back we saw some familiar faces from Hogwarts.

We saw Oliver Wood, the old Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, who dragged me and Harry over to his parents to introduce us. Then he told us that he was now the Keeper for the Puddlemore United reserve team. Next, we saw Ernie Macmillian, who frankly always annoyed me, who was a Hufflepuff fourth year, then a further on we saw Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw fifth year. She smiled and waved at Harry, who smiled back and spilled water all down his front. I glared at Cho as we walked passed, but she didn't see me.

I spent nearly twenty minutes talking to Ethan , a Ravenclaw fourth year who was really good-looking. He was caramel brown eyes, and light brown hair that was always in his eyes, and he always seemed to have a tan, but it wasn't any where near as dark as Fang's. Ethan introduced me to his parents. Two years ago, Ethan's little sister Lucy died. Even now, his parents seemed distant and not really there. That was when I noticed all three of them seemed skinnier then that was normal. And Ethan's father looked like he had a serious hangover.

"Max! Hurry up!" Fang shouted from behind me. "Sorry," I said, "I should go. It was nice meeting you," I said to Ethan's parents.

"You too, dear," Ethan's mom said, though she wasn't even looking at me.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts," I said to Ethan. "Yeah," he said, his eyes sad looking. "Bye Max."

I walked back to the others, deep in thought. I wasn't even listening to the others talking.

"Wow, Max, you never told me St James' dad was a drunk," Iggy said. Even though I knew Iggy was only joking, and I know he didn't want to be mean, I still snapped at him. "Don't say that! You don't know what goes on in their life! Don't ever say that! Just-don't."

I never told them about Ethan's sister. No one knows about it. I'm not even sure if his friends from Ravenclaw knew about Lucy.

"Sorry," Iggy said, looking over his shoulder at Ethan's tent. They had gone back inside their tent, even though everyone else was sitting outside their tents, enjoying the bright morning.

"Who do you reckon they are?" Harry asked, looking at a group of teenagers that were standing outside their tent that didn't look familiar. "They don't go to Hogwarts, do they?"

"They probably go to some foreign school," Ron said, "I know there are others. Never met anyone that went to another one. Bill had a penpal in Brazil, but this was years and years ago...and he wanted Bill to go on an exchange, but Mum and Dad didn't have the money for it. His penpal got all offended when he said he wasn't going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up."

We laughed, and I noticed that Iggy was staring at me with a weird expression. I let the others walked ahead, and when Iggy went to walk in front of me, I grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Listen, Ig. I-"

"I get it Max. You care too much about people, and you feel you need to protect them. Why else do you think the flock's lived this long? Because of you. You've kept us all alive. Don't say sorry. I get it. I won't be such as idiot next time. I'm sorry for what I said about Ethan's dad."

I smiled at Iggy and said, "I really am sorry though. If I ever say something like that again, just slap some sense into me, okay?"

Iggy laughed and said, "Whatever you say, Max."

"You guys took your time," George said when we walked back into the Weasley's tent.

"We met a few people," I said, "We have friends, you know?"

Fred and George stared at me. "What?" Fred said. "Maximum Ride? Having friends other then these people?" George said, pointing at the flock, Harry, Ron and Hermione. I rolled my eyes and pushed back them, leaving the saucepans I was carrying on the table in the kitchen.

"Have you not started the fire yet?" Nudge asked.

"No," Ginny said, walking out from the bathroom and pulling her red hair into a ponytail. "Dad's having too much with the matches."

"Oh God," the Gasman said, walking outside the tent. "What?" I said, following him.

"Don't trust Mr Weasley with matches or lighters or- well, anything to do with fire," Gazzy said.

We went to the side of the tent, where Mr Weasley was having absolutely no success with lighting the fire, but it wasn't because he wasn't trying hard enough. It was because he kept messing with the matches. Used and splintered matches littered the floor around him, but he looked like he was having the time of his life.

"Oops!" he cried in surprise, as he lit one, then dropped it.

"Come here, Mr Weasley," Hermione said kindly, kneeling beside Mr Weasley and taking the box of matches from Mr Weasley. As we got the fire lighting, it was another hour before we could actually cook anything. There was plenty to watch as we waited though. Ministry members kept hurrying passed our tent, saying a quick hello to Mr Weasley as they ran passed.

Just before we were able to eat, Angel cried, "Max! Where's Fang?"

"He's right-" I started, but the words got caught in my mouth. I thought Fang was right beside me, but when I looked, he was gone.

"Fang?" I said, standing up and looking around. "Where is he?" Iggy asked, looking very worried. "Fang?" Ginny said quietly, looking terrified.

"Guys I'm right here!" came Fang's voice from behind me. I turned around, but there wasn't anyone there.

"Where?" I cried.

"Right here!" Fang said again. I felt a hand on mine, and then suddenly Fang was there.

"Were you wearing Harry's Invisibility Cloak?" I asked, my heart beating painfully fast in my chest.

"No! I was sitting right there! Nothing was covering me. How come you couldn't see me?" Fang said.

"Maybe it's a new skill," Gazzy said.

"Think of being invisible," Nudge said.

Fang scrunched his face in concentration. Oh, I wish Colin Creevey was here right so that I could take a picture of this..

"Am I invisible?" Fang asked, his face still scrunched up.

"No. You look constipated though," Ron said, snickering.

"Shut up," Fang said, sitting down again.

We all sat down again, waiting for our food to cook. A few minutes later, Fang was gone from sight again.

"Seriously, Fang, this is getting really old," I snapped.

"I'm not doing anything!" Fang said hotly, then suddenly he was there. Not an Invisibility Cloak in sight. And I could see his wand on the table in the kitchen from where I was sitting.

"How are you doing that?" I asked.

"I don't know," Fang said.

"Try staying still for a few minutes," Hermione suggested. And so Fang did, while everyone crowded around him so the people walking around couldn't see him. He remained motionless on his chair, with everyone staring at him. After a few minutes, he disappeared.

"THAT IS SO COOL!" The Gasman shouted so loud that everyone around us stared. "Shh!" I hissed.

"I got a new skill," Fang said, looking as if nothing interesting had just happened.

"What do you mean, new skill?" Harry asked.

"Some of us have skills," I explained. "You know that Angel can read minds. I don't know if we ever told you that Gazzy can mimic any sound perfectly. Now, Fang can blend into his surroundings when he doesn't move. Oh, yeah, and this morning, Angel influenced Nudge to wake up, so she can control your mind. That's it, really."

"That is so cool," Ron said simply.

Finally, the fire was done. Just as we were cooking eggs and sausages, Bill, Charlie and Percy walked out from the woods. "Just Apparated, Dad," Percy said, trying to look impressive. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"

We were halfway through lunch when Mr Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and smiling at a man walking towards us. "Aha!" he said, "The man of the minute! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable wizard I've seen, including Archie in his flowered nightdress. Thinking about him again make me snort into my tea, but I covered it up with a violent coughing fit.

Ludo was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal strips of yellow and black, and there was a huge wasp splashed across the chest. He looked like a once powerfully built man gone to seed; his robes were tightly stretched across his large stomach, which he obviously didn't have when he played Quidditch years ago. His nose was oddly squashed, probably from getting hit by a Bludger, and he had the face like an overgrown schoolboy.

"Ahoy there!" he called as he reached our tent, walking as if there were springs attached to his feet. Angel was eyeing him suspiciously, so immediately I knew he was someone to look out for.

"Arthur, old man," he puffed, as if the short walk was too much for him, "What a day, huh? What a day! Couldn't have asked for better weather! A cloudless night coming in, and barely a hiccough in the arrangements. Not much for to do!"

Over Bagman's shoulder, some other Ministry workers were pointing to a magical fire, spitting purple flames twenty feet into the air.

Percy rushed forward, hand outstretched. He mightn't approve of how Bagman runs his department, but that didn't stop him wanting to make a good impression. Git.

"Ah yes," Mr Weasley said, "This is my son, Percy- he just started working at the Ministry- and that's Fred- no, sorry that's George- that's Fred- Bill, Charlie, Ron, my daughter Ginny, and Max, Fang, Iggy, Nudge, the Gasman and Angel. And their friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

Bagman did a double take when he heard Harry's name, and like everyone else that met Harry, his eyes flickered to his forehead, where Harry's lightening shaped scar was visible under his fringe.

"Everyone," Mr Weasley said, "This is Ludo Bagman. It's because of him we got such great tickets." Bagman waved his hand and smiled as if to say it was nothing, even though none of us seemed very pushed to say thanks. Let's just say the flock have never been very mannerly.

"Fancy a gamble on the match, Arthur?" Bagman asked, grinning eagerly and jiggling the pocket full of money in his yellow and black robes. Angel frowned, looking at Bagman with a weird expression. What's wrong? I thought to her.

He's getting people to bet, but he doesn't know how he's going to pay anyone back. Angel thought into my mind.

Wow, the people they pick to go into politics... I thought back. She smiled at me, then we both returned to the conversation at hand.

"Oh go on, then," Mr Weasley said, "Let's see...A Galleon on Ireland."

"A Galleon?" Bagman said, looking disappointed, "Alright then, very well, very well. Any other takers?"

I gave the flock stern looks. After what Angel told me, I wasn't trusting this guy. Iggy, who had started to reach into his pocket, stopped when saw me looking at him.

"They're a bit young to be gambling, Ludo," Mr Weasley said, "Molly wouldn't like it-"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and three Knuts," said Fred and George, counting all their money, "That Ireland wins, but Krum will catch the Snitch. Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand."

"You don't want to go showing Mr Bagman rubbish like that!" Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the fake wand was rubbish at all. His boyish face split into a wide grin, and he started laughing as he took it from Fred. When the wand squeaked and turned into a rubber chicken, he roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one this convincing in years! I'd give you five Galleons for it!"

Percy froze in stunned disapproval.

"Boys," Mr Weasley said, looking worried, "I don't want you betting...That's all your savings... Your mother-"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" Bagman boomed, "They're old enough to know what they want! You think Ireland will win, but Krum with catch the Snitch? Not a chance, lads, not a chance...I'll give you great odds for that one. And the five Galleons for the funny wand."

Mr Weasley looked at them helplessly as Bagman took out a notebook and wrote back down the twins bet. "Cheers," George said, taking the slip of parchment Bagman offered him and putting it into his pocket. Bagman turned cheerfully back to Mr Weasley.

"Couldn't do we a brew, I suppose?" he asked, "I'm keeping an eye out for old Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite numbers making things difficult and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out, though. He speaks about a hundred different languages-"

"Mr Crouch?" Percy said, abandoning his professionalism and almost jumping with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish, Gobbledgook, Troll-"

"Well anyone can speak troll troll," I said, rolling my eyes, "All you have to do is point and grunt."

Percy threw me a nasty look, and I smiled innocently at him. Percy got the kettle and started making the tea.

"Any news on Bertha Jorkins, Ludo?" Mr Weasley asked as Mr Bagman sat on the grass beside us. "Not a whistle," Bagman said. "But she'll turn up. Poor Bertha...Memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, if you ask me. She'll wander back into the office in October, thinking it's still July."

"You don't think you should send someone to look for her?" Nudge asked, "I mean, she has been missing for weeks. No one could get lost for that long, and no one see them."

"That's what Barty Crouch is always saying," Bagman said, "But we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh- talk of the devil, hello Barty!"

A wizard had just Apparated at our fireside. He couldn't have been more opposite to Ludo Bagman, who was sitting on the ground in his old Wasps uniform. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man dressed in a crisp suite and tie. The parting of his short grey was perfectly straight, and his toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed them with a side rule. His shoes were highly polished. I could easily see why Percy idolized them. Percy was a great believer in following the rules, and Mr Crouch had complied with the Muggle dress code so thoroughly that I doubt even Harry's uncle would of guessed him for what he really was.

"Pull up a bit of grass, Barty," Bagman said.

"No thank you," he said, "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting on adding twelve extra seats to the Top Box."

"Oh, that's what they wanted! I thought he was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers," Bagman said.

"Mr Crouch!" Percy said breathlessly. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh," Crouch said, looking at Percy in surprise, "Yes-thank you, Weatherby."

Me, Fred and George all snorted into our cups of tea. Percy went very pink, and busied himself with the kettle once more.

"Oh, and I've been wanting a word with you too Arthur," Crouch said, turning his sharp eyes to Mr Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word about the flying carpets."

Mr Weasley sighed.

"I sent him an owl just last week. If I told him once, I've told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"

"I doubt it," Crouch said, taking the tea from Percy. "He's desperate to export here."

"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" Bagman said.

"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," Crouch said, "I remember my grandfather had a carpet that could seat twelve-but that was before carpets were banned, of course." He spoke as though he wanted to make the point clear that his ancestors had abided strictly to the law.

"So, keeping busy, Barty?" Bagman asked.

"Fairly," Crouch said, "Organizeing Portkey's across five continents is no easy feat, Ludo."

"I expect you'll be glad when all this is over?" Mr Weasley said.

Bagman looked shocked. "Glad? I can't remember when I've had more fun! Still, it's not as though we don't have anything else to look forward to. Plenty left to organize, eh, Barty?"

Crouch raised his eyebrows. "We agreed not to make any announcements until all the details-"

"Oh, details!" Bagman said, waving his hand in the air. "They've sighed, haven't they? They've agreed? I bet you anything these kids will know some enough, anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts-"

"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians," Crouch said, "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."

He handed his full cup of tea back to Percy, then waited for Bagman to get to his feet. "See you all later!" he called as he stood beside Crouch. "You'll be in the Top Box with me- I'm commentating!"

Bagman waved, and Crouch nodded curtly, then they both Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts?" I asked. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Mr Weasley smiled.

"It's classified information, until such time the Ministry decides to release it," Percy said stiffly. "Mr Crouch was right not to say anything."

"Oh, shut up Weatherby," Fred said.

As the afternoon went on, the sense of excitement rose over the campsite. By dusk, the summer air seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread around the thousands of waiting wizards. The Ministry workers gave up trying to stop people from using magic, and signs of magic were breaking out everywhere.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of merchandise. There were luminous rosettes-green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria- squealing the names of the players. Pointed green hats covered in dancing shamrocks (which I bought, 'cause the shamrocks were adorable) and red Bulgarian scarves. The flags of both countries that sang the countries national anthem (I also bought the Irish flag). There were tiny models of Firebolts that actually flew, and collective figures of players that walked across the palm of your hand.

"I've been saving all summer for this," Ron said, looking beside himself with excitement as we walked around buying our souvenirs. Even though Ron was buying Irish things, like the rest of us, he also bought a tiny figure of Viktor Krum.

"Wow, look at these!" Iggy said, pointing towards a cart with what looked like brass binoculars, except they were covered in loads of knobs and dials.

"Omnioculars," the salesmen said. "You can replay action. Slow everything down, and then flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need to. Bargain- five Galleons each, because theres so many of you."

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," Ron said, glaring at the green rosette on his shirt.

"Nine pairs," Harry said, grinning at Hermione, Ron, and the flock.

"Harry, you can't. We'll buy our own-" I started, but Harry cut me off.

"Come off it. I didn't even get you a birthday present," Harry said, winking at me. I could feel myself blushing, and was thankful that it was dark. "Besides, you don't have to have to buy me a Christmas present," he said, shoving the Omnioculars into everyones hands. "For about ten years, mind."

"Fair enough," Fang said, grinning one of his rare grins.

"Oooh, thanks Harry," Nudge said, "These are really cool! They're so pretty! Look at all the buttons and the colors and the-"

"Hey, look I'll get the programs," I said loudly, interrupting Nudge. With our money bags lighter, we walked back to the tent. Bill, Charlie and Ginny were all wearing green hats and badges and Mr Weasley was carrying an Irish flag.

Fred and George didn't have anything because they had given all their money to Bagman.

Then came a deep, booming gong from somewhere in the woods, then green and red lanterns blazed into life on the path to the woods.

"It's time!" Mr Weasley said. "Let's go!"

Hola!

Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I was really busy!

Anyway, I hope everyone likes the chapter!

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