AUTHORS NOTE :P
Hey! So here is the chapter everyones been looking forward to!
THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!
Now to answer some reviews...
max artemis potter: Pottermore is a sight J.K Rowling made for Potter fans and you can go through all the books like Harry, and get a wand, and get sorted and everything.
jdr ride: reply to what? did you ask those questions before? I'm really sorry! But, sorry the flock won't be in the Tournaments..sorry. as for the other questions, you'll just have to wait and see...
signofthemoon: she'll find out soon enough. and total's going to be staying with Angel.
Green Nook: you'll just have to wait and see...
Arkell 26: I get why you'd think she didn't see it, but Max saw the look on Lockhart's face after she got her out of the Chamber, and it was the same look on Mr Roberts face, so that's how she recognized it..
punk birds rock: yeah, there is a spell, but their not meant to be using magic at the campsite.
Annie Bell: Seriously? Merlin was in Slytherin? I added you on Pottermore :D and why would I stereotype?
And now, my faithful readers, WELCOME TO THE 422nd QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!
Max's POV
Following Mr Weasley and clutching our purchases, we walked into the woods, following the well lit trail. We could hear thousands of other people moving around us, shouts of laughter and singing. The excited atmosphere was infectious and I couldn't stop grinning. We walked for nearly twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly. Gazzy even let out on of his-er, surprises. For the last five minutes of the walk, we were all gagging and choking, our eyes streaming, while the Gasman walked ahead, grinning.
We emerged on the other side and found ourselves facing a massive stadium. It was big enough to store a couple cathedrals inside. I was glad to see there wasn't a roof. If the flock had to get away, it would be simple.
"Seats a hundred thousand," Mr Weasley said, grinning at Harry's awestruck look. "There have been five hundred members of the Ministry task force working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time a Muggle came close to it over the summer, they suddenly remembered that they had to be somewhere else, and rush off."
"Top Box!" said a Ministry witch at the entrance, "Straight upstairs Arthur, as high as you can go."
The stairs into the stadium were covered in purple carpet. We climbed up the stairs with the crowd, while the flock tried not to think about how many people were around us. Slowly, the crowds of people drifted away through doors on the left and right, but we kept climbing. At last we reached the top of a stairs, and found ourselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium. There were about thirty seats spread into three rows, and as we filled up the front row, I looked down on the stadium, feeling my jaw drop, and all my thoughts about Erasers popping up and taking us all back to the School disappeared from my mind.
There were a hundred thousand wizards and witches getting into their seats, which rose in levels around the oval field. The field itself looked velvety and smooth. At either end of the field was the fifty-foot high goalposts. Right opposite us was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing was flashing across it, as if an invisible giant was writing on it, and then wiping it away; watching it, I noticed the blackboard was for advertisements.
`The Bluebottle: A broom for all the family- safe, reliable, and with a Built-in-Anti-Burgler Buzzer...Mrs. Shower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!...Gladrags Wizardwear- London, Paris, Hogsmeade...'
I took my eyes off the blackboard, and saw Harry looking over his shoulder at all the other people in the box with us. I looked around as well, curious. So far, it was empty, except for one, small, strange, looking creature sitting in the second from last seat in the row behind us. The creature, who was so small it's legs were dangling over the edge of the chair, was wearing a tea-towel draped like a toga, and it was covering it's face with it's hands. It looked strangely familiar...
Harry and I shared a look, both recognizing the creature. "Dobby?" Harry asked.
The tiny creature looked up and put it's hands down from it's face, revealing huge brown eyes and a nose like a large tomato. It wasn't Dobby, but ti was a house-elf, just like Dobby was. Two years ago, Harry had set Dobby free from his owners, the Malfoy's.
"Did sir just call me Dobby?" the house-elf asked. It's voice was much higher then Dobby's had been, so I thought-though it was hard to tell- that his house-elf was a girl. Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the flock spun around in their seats. They had all heard a lot about Dobby from me and Harry, but had never actually met him. Even Mr Weasley turned around to look.
"Sorry," I said, "We thought you were someone else."
"But I knows Dobby too, miss!" squeaked the elf. She was still shielding her face. "My name is Winky, sir and miss," she said, looking at me and Harry. But when her eyes landed on Harry, her enormous brown eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "You is surely Harry Potter!"
"Yeah, I am," Harry said. "Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" Winky squeaked, lowering her hands just a small bit.
"How is he?" I asked. "Is he happy, now that he's free?"
"Ah, miss," Winky said, shaking her head, "Meaning no disrespect to Harry Potter, miss, but I not so sure Harry Potter did him a favor, miss, in setting Dobby free."
"Why?" Harry asked, "What's wrong with him?"
"Freedom has gone to Dobby's head, sir," Winky said sadly, "He can't get another position, sir."
"Why not?" Iggy asked.
Winky lowered her voice and whispered, "Dobby is wanting paying for his work, sir."
"Paying?" Angel asked, her blue eyes wide, "Why shouldn't he get paid for working?"
Winky looked horrified at the thought, and covered her face with her hands again. "House-elves do not get paid, young miss!" Winky said in a muffled squeak, "No no no no! I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sirs and misses, what is unbecoming of a house-elf. You goes around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear, you's up front of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."
"Well, it's about time Dobby had some fun," I said, grinning.
"House-elves aren't meant to have fun, miss," Winky said firmly, "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights, Harry Potter, sir-" she said, glancing towards the edge of the box, then she gulped. "-But my master sends me to the Top Box, and I comes, sir."
"Why did he send you here if he knew you were afraid of heights?" Harry asked.
"Master-master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy, sir," Winky said, tilting her head towards the empty seat beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in Master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."
She looked at the edge of the box again, but looked away, covering her face again, wincing and whimpering.
We turned back to the others. "So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered, "Strange things, aren't they?"
"Dobby was way more strange then Winky," Harry said. Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, pointing them at different people in the crowd.
"Wicked!" Ron said, messing with the replay knob on the side. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again...and again...and again...and again..." Looking very interested, Iggy and the Gasman took out their Omnioculars and started looking for other gross things they could play again and again.
Meanwhile, Hermione was reading through the program.
"`A display of the team mascots will precede the match,'" she read aloud.
"Oh, that's always worth watching," Mr Weasley said, "National teams being creatures from their native lands, you know, to put on a bit of a show."
The box started filling gradually over the next half hour. Mr Weasley kept shaking hands with very obvious important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so much it looked like there were springs on his butt. When the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge, walked into the box, Percy bowed so low his glasses fell off and shattered against the floor. Red faced, he picked them up and repaired them with his wand, and stayed in his seat, throwing jealous at Harry, who Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They shook hands, and Fudge introduced him to the wizards that had walked in with him.
"Harry Potter, you know," Fudge said loudly to the Bulgarian minister, who didn't seem to understand a word of English.
"Harry Potter...Oh, come on now, you have to know who he is. The boy who survived You Know Who...you know who he is?"
The Bulgarian wizard had seen Harry's lightening shaped scar on his forehead, and he was now jumping up and down excitedly, gibbering in Bulgarian.
"Knew he'd get there in the end," Fudge said, "I'm not great at the language thing... I need Barty Crouch here for that. Ah, I see his house-elf is saving him a seat...Good thing too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to get all the best places...ah, here's Lucius!"
The flock, Harry, Ron and Hermione wheeled around quickly. Edging along the second row to the last three remaining seats were none other then Dobby's old owners: Lucius Malfoy; his jerk son Draco Malfoy; and a gorgeous looking woman who I supposed was Draco's mother.
Draco Malfoy has been our enemy since the first time we ever met him.
All three of the Malfoy's were blonde. Mrs Malfoy was tall and slim, and looked as though there was a nasty smell under her nose.
"Ah, Fudge," Mr Malfoy said as he approached Fudge, then shook his hand. "How are you? I don't think you've ever met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"
"How do you do?" Fudge asked, smiling and bowing at Mrs Malfoy. "Let me introduce Mr Oblansk- Obalonsk- Mr- well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic and he doesn't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so it doesn't matter. And, let's see, who else- I daresay you know Arthur Weasley?"
It was a tense and awkward moment. The last time Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy had met, they were punching and pushing each other into book shelves in Diagon Alley. Mr Malfoy's cold, grey eyes swept across Mr Weasley, then up and down the row.
"Good Lord, Arthur," Mr Malfoy said softly, "What did you have to sell to get all these tickets in the Top Box? Surely your house isn't worth this much?"
Charlie, who was on my left, put his hand on my shoulder when I stepped forward, fists clenched. Before I could say something insulting or sarcastic to Mr Malfoy, Fudge, who hadn't been listening, said, "Lucius has given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."
"How-how nice," Mr Weasley said with a very forced smile.
Mr Malfoy's eyes had landed on Hermione, who went pink but she still stared determinedly back at him. I knew why he was staring at Hermione like that. The Malfoy's were one of the families that prided themselves in being pureblood. In other words, they considered anything of Muggle decent, like Hermione, middle-class. They treated Muggle-borns like filth.
"Something wrong, Mr Malfoy?" I snarled, noticing the way his lip was curling.
"Nothing at all, Miss Ride," Mr Malfoy said meanly. He wouldn't dare actually say anything in front of the Minister of Magic. Draco shot us all a look, then sat down between his parents.
"They seem pleasant," Gazzy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. We all chuckled, then Ludo Bagman walked into the box, still wearing his old Quidditch uniform. "Everyone ready?" he asked excitedly. "Minister-ready to go?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo," Fudge said comfortably.
Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said, "Sonorus!" and then he spoke over the roar and cheering of the crowd; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.
"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
The crowd cheered and clapped. Thousands of flags waved and the two different national anthems were playing together. The huge blackboard opposite us wiped clean of it's last advertisement for Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and it now read IRELAND: 0, BULGARIA: 0.
"And now, without further ado, let me introduce...The Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"
The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of red, erupted in cheers of approval.
"I wonder what they've brought," Mr Weasley said. "Ahh!" He suddenly wiped his glasses off his robes, and said, "Veela!"
"What are veela-?"
But a hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field, and Nudge's question was answered. Veela were women, beautiful women. Except, they couldn't really be human, the way their skin shone moon bright, or the way their hair was white-gold.
And that's when the music started, and that's when all the boy's started acting very weird. Well, weirder then usual.
Harry, who always looked so thoughtful, now had a distant, vague look in his face. Ron was looking dreamy, and he slowly got to his feet and walked towards the wall of the box, with Iggy walked beside him. After another few seconds, Harry got to feet as well, and walked over with Ron and Iggy. Getting what was happening, Ginny grabbed onto Fang's hand to keep him in his seat, and Angel held onto the Gasman. All the other guys seemed to have control of themselves, but just barely.
Me, Hermione and Nudge all jumped up to the wall of the box beside the boys, just as Harry lifted his leg onto the wall, as if he was going to jump off, and Ron looked like he was ready to dive off a springboard. Iggy, however, was standing quite still, staring at the dancing veela, but I had the feeling that he was going to whip put his wings and fly around the stadium.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I yelled. Then the music stopped playing, and the veela stopped dancing. The boy's blinked, then stepped away from the edge of the box, and Fang and Gazzy stopped fighting. Fang grinned sheepishly at Ginny when he saw she was holding his hand, and didn't move for a few seconds. When they moved away from each other, both of them were bright red.
Angry yells started filling the stadium. The crowd didn't seem to want the veela to leave, and it was clear that Harry, Ron, Iggy and Fang agreed with them. I rolled my eyes, reached out and grabbed the back of Harry's jumper and pulled him back to his seat. Hermione dragged Ron back and Nudge dragged back Iggy.
"Honestly!" Hermione tutted.
"And now," Bagman roared into his wand, "Give it up for the Irish National Team Mascots!"
Next minute, what looked like a green and gold comet came zooming around the stadium. It did one round of the pitch, then split into two smaller comets, each one going towards the goal posts. A rainbow arched across the pitch (which made Nudge squeal in delight) connecting the two balls of light. The crowd ooohhed and aaaaaahed, but none of them as loud as Nudge. Now the rainbow faded and the two balls of light connected again; they formed a huge green shamrock, which rose into the air over the crowd.
Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from the shamrock. "Excellent!" Ron yelled as the shamrock came over us and heavy gold coins rained from it onto us. Looking up at the shamrock, I saw it was made out of little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a small lamp of gold or green.
"Leprechauns!" Mr Weasley yelled happily over the tumultuous applause from the crowd, and we could see many people ducking and jumping to get the gold.
"There you go!" Ron said happily, giving Harry a handful of the gold coins. "Now you have to get me a Christmas present!" We all laughed as the giant shamrock dissolved, and the leprechauns drifted onto the pitch, on the opposite side of the veela, and settled themselves down for the match.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome- the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!
"I give you-Dimitrov!" A figure on a broomstick, dressed in scarlet, moving so fast he was a blur, shot out from the entrance below to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.
"Ivanova!" A second scarlet clad player shot out from the entrance.
"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaaaaaand-Krum!"
"That's him! That's him!" Ron said excitedly, following Krum with his Omnioculars.
"Ron and Krum, Sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-" Nudge started singing happily, but Ron was too busy looking at Krum through his Omnioculars to listen to her, while the rest of us were howling with laughter.
I decided to see if Krum was so grumpy in real life as he was in his poster. I looked at him through my own Omnioculars. And I was right- Krum was looking as grumpy as he had in his picture. He was dark, sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. I could hardly believe he was only eighteen.
"And, now please greet- the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman, "Presenting- Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaaand-Lynch!"
Seven green blurs swept onto the pitch. I could see the small gold Firebolt written on their handlebars, and their names embroidered on their backs.
"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, but he had a massive mustache that was even more ridiculous then Harry's uncle's, strode onto the pitch. A silver whistle was visible from under his mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, and his broomstick under his other arm. I watched as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open, and four balls burst into the air: the red Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and I saw for a split second before it disappeared, the Golden Snitch.
With a sharp blast of his whistle, Mostafa shot after the balls.
"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"
It was Quidditch like I've never seen before. Being a Chaser myself, I couldn't believe the speed the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to each other. They were doing it so fast, Bagman only had time to say there names before someone else had the Quaffle.
Moran had the Quaffle, but he got blocked by Levski, who managed to get the Quaffle, but Troy soared up and got the Quaffle back, then he soared towards the goal posts. He threw the Quaffle and-
"TROY SCORES!" Bagman yelled and the stadium exploded in cheers and applause. "Ten-zero to Ireland!"
"What?" Harry asked, "But Levski's got the Quaffle!"
"Harry, you're going to miss things if you don't watch at normal speed," Hermione shouted over the noise.
I smirked at Harry, who looked furious with himself, and looked across at the leprechauns, who had formed into the giant shamrock again, facing the veela who were sulking on their bench.
I knew enough about Quidditch and flying to know that the Irish Chaser's were amazing. They worked as if they were one, their movements so coordinated and precise they seemed to be reading each others minds, and the little rosette on my jumper kept crying their names," Moran! Muttet! Troy!" And within another ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, making the score thirty-zero, and causing a massive tidal wave of noise from the Irish supporters.
The match became even faster, and more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers so fiercely at the Irish Chasers that they couldn't do some of their best moves. Twice, they were forced to scatter, and finally, Ivanova managed to get the Quaffle passed the Irish Keeper, Ryan, and score Bulgaria's first goal.
"Fingers in your ears!" Mr Weasley yelled. I watched in amusement as Harry covered his ears, and closed his eyes too, and so did all the other boys. After about a minute, the veela stopped dancing, and I nudged Harry and Charlie, who I was sitting between.
"Dimitrov!" Bagman was shouting, "Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova!- oh, I say!"
One hundred thosand wizards gasped all together, and at the same time, the flock, the Weasley's, Harry and Hermione all rose from our seats for a better look. The two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, were plummeting towards the ground. I pulled my Omnioculars to my eyes to see where the Snitch was, but I couldn't see it anywhere.
"They're going to crash!" Nudge screamed.
She was almost right. At the last second, Krum pulled sharply out of the dive and spiraled to the right. Lynch, not fast enough in realizing what was happening, crashed right into the ground with a dull thud that seemed to echo throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish side of the pitch.
"Fool!" Mr Weasley moaned. "Krum was feinting!"
"And it's a timeout!" Bagman called. "as trained mediwizards run onto the pitch to check on Aidan Lynch!"
"He'll be fine," Charlie was saying to Ginny, who was staring at the pitch, horror struck. "He only got ploughed. Which is what Krum wanted, of course." And then I understood- Krum never saw the Snitch. I had never seen flying like that before.
I used my Omnioculars to look at Krum, who was flying high over Lynch, who was being revived by the mediwizards with cups of potion. I looked back up at Krum. His dark eyes were darting all over the ground of the pitch. He was using the time Lynch was down to look for the Snitch. Well, tickle me pink and call me impressed.
At last, Lynch got to his feet, to many cheers from the Irish seats, and he mounted his broom and kicked off into the air. His revival seemed to have given Ireland new heard and hope. When Mostafa blew the whistle again, the Irish Chasers flew into action faster then anything I've ever seen before.
After fifteen more minutes of fast and furious playing, Ireland had pulled ahead by another ten goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier.
As Mullet went towards the goals again, the Quaffle in his hand, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so fast that I didn't even see the whole thing, even with my raptor vision, but there was a scream of rage from the Irish crowd and Mostafa's shrill whistle blast told us it was a foul.
"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed everyone.
The leprechauns had risen into the air in front of the veela's, and went together to form the words, "HA HA HA!" The veela, getting mad, rose from their seats and stared dancing again. As one, the Weasley boys, the flock boys, and Harry, all stuffed their fingers into their ears.
"Max, look at the referee!" Ginny said, giggling. I looked down onto the pitch at Mostafa, who had flown down to the veela, probably to tell them off, but now he was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache.
I tugged on Harry's arm to get him to look, and when he saw the referee, we both started laughing.
"Now we can't have that!" Bagman roared. "Someone slap that referee!"
A mediwizard ran across the field, his fingers shoved into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. This only made us all laugh harder. But it seemed to work, because, Mostafa was now looking very embarrassed, and was shouting at the veela, who sat down, looking furious.
"And I think Mostafa is actually attempting to send the Bulgarian team mascots off the pitch!" Bagman yelled. "Now there is something we've never seen before! Oh, this could turn nasty..."
And so it did. The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed down on either side of Mostafa and started shouting furiously at him, gesturing towards the leprechauns, who were now floating in the air forming the words, "HEE HEE HEE!" Mostafa was not impressed with the arguments. He was pointing to their Firebolts, then back to the sky, clearly telling them to get back into the air. When they refused, he gave two short blasts of the whistle.
"And two penalties to Ireland!" Bagman shouted, and the Bulgarian crowd roared angrily.
"And Volkov and Vulchanov better get back on their brooms...yes, there they go... and Troy takes the Quaffle."
The game reached a level of violence and ferocity beyond anything that's happened so far. The Beaters on both teams were acting without mercy: the Bulgarian ones in particular didn't seem to care whether their clubs hit the Bludger or a human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, nearly knocking her off her broom.
"Foul!" Yelled the Irish supporters at once.
"Foul!" Bagman echoed, "Dimitrov skins Moran- deliberately flying to collide with her there- and it has to be another penalty- and yes, there's the whistle!"
The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and they formed together to make a hand, which made a very rude gesture towards the veela. I covered Angel's eyes.
At the other end of the pitch, the veela finally lost it. Instead of dancing, they leaped across the pitch, throwing what seemed to be fireballs at the leprechauns. They didn't look as beautiful now- their faces were growing in sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were erupting from their shoulders-
"Good thing the School only gave us the wings," Iggy said, staring at the veela and looking disgusted.
"Yes, and that is why you never just go by personality alone, boys," Mr Weasley said.
Ministry wizards were flooding onto the pitch to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success. Meanwhile, the fight on the ground was nothing compared to the one happening in the sky. My eyes were taking in everything as the Quaffle changed hands like a bullet.
"Levski- Dimitrov- Moran- Troy- Mullet- Ivanova- Moran again- MORAN SCORES!"
The cheers of the Irish were drowned out by the shrieks of the veela, and the blasts coming from the Ministry officials wands, and the furious roars from the Bulgarians. The game continued straight away- Levski had the Quaffle, then Dimitrov- the Irish Beater Quigley swung his bat heavily at a passing Bludger and hit it as hard as eh could towards Krum, who didn't move out of the way fast enough. It hit him right in the face.
There was a deafening groan from the crowd. Krum's nose was broken, and blood was flying everywhere. "Is he alright?" Angel asked.
"Yeah, sweetie, he'll be fine," I said. "But there's so much blood..." Angel said, looking a bit pale.
"Head injuries always bleed more," I said. That seemed to convince her that Krum wasn't going to die, but she still wasn't looking anywhere near him.
Mostafa didn't seem to notice that Krum was injured, although I couldn't blame him. One of the veela's had thrown a fireball at it hit the tail of his broomstick, which erupted in flames.
"Time-out! Look at him, he can't play like that!" Ron shouted.
"Look at Lynch!" Gazzy yelled.
The Irish Seeker had gone into a sudden dive, and I was sure this was no feint, like what Krum did... This was the real thing...
"He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"
Only about half of the crowd had noticed what had happened. The Irish supporters were all standing up, cheering Lynch on...But Krum was on his tail, blood flying around his face from his nose. They drew level, and the pair of them hurtled towards the ground once more...
"They're going to crash!" I shouted.
"They're not!" Fang yelled.
"Lynch is!" roared Harry.
And Harry was right. For the second time, Lynch went straight into the ground, and he was swarmed by a crowd of angry veela. But Krum grabbed the Snitch and pulled out of the dive.
"Where's the Snitch? Where is it?" Charlie asked.
"He has it- Krum got it! Its over- It's all over!" Harry said.
Krum, his red robes shining from the blood that was still coming from his nose, rose high into the air, his fist held up high, and a gold glint was visible in his closed hand.
The scoreboard was flashing, BULGARIA: 160; IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to notice what happened. Then, slowly, the Irish supporters started screaming and roaring with delight.
"IREALND WINS! (AN: WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! GO IRELAND! WHOOP!) BUT KRUM GOT THE SNITCH! BUT IRELAND WINS! I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT!" Bagman was screaming.
"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even though he was jumping up and down in celebration, "He ended it when Ireland was a hundred and sixty points ahead! The idiot!"
"He knew they'd never catch up!" Harry shouted, clapping his hands loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good. He ended it on his terms, that's all."
"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, blushing slightly as she spoke, "He looks a horrible mess."
I looked down at the ground, where mediwizards were fussing over Krum, who looked like he just wanted to leave. He refused for the mediwizards to clean him up. The Bulgarian team were around him,shaking their heads and looking depressed. A short way away, the Irish team were dancing happily in a shower of gold coins from the leprechauns. Flags were waving all over the stadium, and the Irish National Anthem was blaring from every corner. The veela slowly shrank back into their beautiful forms, looking very dispirited.
"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind me. We all turned around. It was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.
"You can speak English!" Fudge gasped, looking outraged. "And you've been letting me mine everything all day!"
"Vell, it vos very funny," the Bulgarian Minister chuckled.
"As as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup is brought into the Top Box!" Bagman shouted.
My eyes were suddenly dazzled by a bright light as the Top Box was suddenly illuminated so that everyone else could see. I turned my head so that no one could see me, and was proud when I saw the flock doing the same. We're just cute that way.
Squinting, I saw two panting and sweating wizards carrying a vast cup, which they handed to Fudge, who was still looking furious that he was tricked into using sign language all day.
"Let's have it for the gallant losers- the Bulgarians!" Bagman roared.
Up the stairs came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was clapping happily. One by one, the Bulgarian players filled into the remaining seats in the Top Box, and Bagman called out each name, and they all shook hands with their own minister, then Fudge.
Krum, who was last in the line, was looking a real mess. His face was completely covered in blood, and so was his neck and robes. He was still holding the Snitch. I noticed that he was slightly less graceful on the ground than he was in the air. He was slightly duck-footed. When Krum's name was called, the crowd gave him an ear-splitting roar.
And then the Irish team came in. Lynch was being held up by Connolly and Moran. The second crash seemed to have dazed him; his eyes were unfocused and he couldn't stand straight. But he grinned happily as Quigley and Troy held up the Cup, and the crowd below thundered its approval.
At last, when the Irish team left the Top Box, to perform another lap, Bagman pointed his wand to his throat and said, "Quietus!"
"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said to us, his voice hoarse. "a rather unexpected twist there...Shame it couldn't have lasted longer...Ah, yes, what do I owe you?"
For Fred and George had sprung to their feet and were standing in front of Bagman with happy grins on their faces, their hands outstretched, while Angel looked around with a strange, suspicious expression.
Hey, I'm really sorry that it's taken a while to update. Life has been hectic lately...
Anyway, how was the chapter? Did everyone like it?
As you all know by now, when you review, you get free cookies and butterbeer if you review! So...
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lOvE yOu! o.O
-Rach ;)