I do not own Cartoon Network, obviously. If I did, there'd be a lot better programming on air.
Chapter 2: A Smashing Good Sport
It happened immediately. Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Seamus and Shaina on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his forefinger was stuck to the tin as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then —
His feet slammed into the ground; Seamus staggered into him and his wand fired a ball of blue flame into the sky. The Portkey hit the ground near his head with a heavy thud.
Harry looked up. Two men were lying on the ground nearby, watching the blue fireball soar ever higher and muttering curses under their breath.
Harry stood up and brushed himself off, leaving just enough dust to look fashionable. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. The men were wizards. Tired, annoyed wizards. They were both dressed, there is no other word for it; absurdly. Apparently they had tried to dress as Muggles. One was in a tweed suit with galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and poncho.
"This just keeps getting better and better," muttered the wizard in the kilt, "You! Keep your wand under control! If you do something as stupid as that again, I'm going to have to confiscate it."
"Sorry, sir," said Seamus, abashed.
"It's alright, son," said the wizard, holding his head in his hands, "Pleinair knows no one's caring how much magic they show off. We've had explosions, levitations, and Leprechaun mobs every hour on the hour. Never you mind, though. The site manager's called Mr. Rogers. You'll find him thereabouts."
The wizard gestured toward the roof of a small building a few hundred yards away, almost completely hidden by pine trees. He walked off, carrying the sardine can in one hand and the conjuring an expresso into his other.
"He looks tired," commented Harry.
Seamus nodded sympathetically, then said, "Poor bugger. Well, let's find Mr. Roger."
Mr. Rogers was a kindly man in his later years. By the looks of things, he had bought the campground to have a means of income in his later years.
"Hello, neighbors, how can I help you?" he asked kindly.
"We have a campsite reserved," said Seamus. "It's registered under 'Finnigan, Dorcas.'"
Harry looked at him sharply as Mr. Rogers turned around to dig through files stacked in a cabinet.
"My uncle's name. He works in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, which is how we got the tickets. He couldn't come, though, on account of his allergy towards grass."
"Here we are," said Mr. Rogers, returning with the file.
"Thank you so much," said Harry, shaking his hand and accepting the file.
"Have a nice day, neighbor."
They walked for about three minutes down a gravel trail and found themselves at the edge of a large field filled with structures of varying size and construction. Some looked vaguely like tents. Seamus dug a map out of the file and they looked at it intently. According to the map, the field was roughly twenty kilometers in diameter and shaped like a Dningsmaket. Their camping spot was in the southwest region of the campground, about where the Dningsmaket's 7th nipple would be.
"Seamus, did you bring a tent?" asked Harry.
"What?"
"Did you bring a tent?"
"Have you ever gone camping before?" asked Seamus.
"No," admitted Harry. "But I do reckon we'll have to stay somewhere."
"First things first. Let's worry about finding our spot."
The three of them made their way to the Dningsmaket's 7th nipple. They had to walk slowly through the crowd of thousands of wizards going from point AAGH372 to point ROWL1N6. The trio of walking plot points eventually reached their camping spot. Only there was a problem.
"Get your f****** tent off our spot, Malfoy!" shouted Harry.
It was more like a mansion than a tent. Indeed, it had a sprawling patio, twenty chimneys, a double-decker garage, twelve stories and a basement, and a pleasure garden with a koi pond, gazebo, and a shishi-odoshi. For those of you who don't know what that is, I'll leave you in suspense. You could always look it up on Google. But what is it? Is it a website that gives you a horrible virus or perhaps a police-run trap set for potential terrorists or sex offenders? You'll just have to find out for yourself.
Technically, only about three inches of the gazebo were on their space. Nevertheless, Harry was very protective of his property. He had to do it because Seamus was distracted by the shishi-odoshi. Have you looked that up yet? Malfoy was sunbathing on the roof with an impetuous smirk twisting his mouth. There was a loud crack and a huge-eyed little creature was staring sadly at them.
"Please leave master Malfoy alone. He must get six hours of sun every day if he doesn't want to be mistaken for an albino vampire."
It was Dobby, the house elf. Harry had met the Malfoy family toad only once before, though exactly when, he couldn't say.
"We'll leave when he gets his d*** gazebo off our spot!" shouted Harry.
"Forget about him," said Shaina, exasperated. "Let's get the tent set up before we get distracted again."
"Where's the tent, then?" asked Harry, "I don't see one anywhere."
"I'll just summon one from the checkout," said Seamus. "Accio!"
For a few moments it seemed that nothing had happened. Then Harry spotted a bundle of cloth soaring through the air toward them. As it passed over the Malfoys' chimneys, Dobby snapped his fingers. The tent burst into flames and fluttered to the ground in a pile of ashes.
"Great," Seamus said weakly.
Time passes.
"Don't break anything," said Lucius Malfoy in a voice that sounded superficially sweet, but with hinted darkness.
"Malfoy's dad scares me," muttered Seamus.
"You and me both," agreed Harry.
"Ooh, look," said Shaina, "They've got a whirlpool in the guest bath!"
"Why are we staying with the Malfoys?" asked Harry.
"Because they agreed to cover the costs on the tent and got us into the Top Box."
"I still don't like it. It feels like I'm giving Malfoy ammo for his boasting."
"Then why didn't you say anything earlier?"
"Didn't feel like it with that busty maid looking at us apologetically like that. Think she's available?"
"You realize we're in the Malfoy's tent, right? They've probably got chastity belts on all their servants."
"When's the match? I want to get out of here as soon as possible."
"Twelve hours. I guess we could look around the camp for people we know."
"Let's do that," said Harry with undue urgency.
During their walk through the camp, they saw many humorous events and met many neat people. For the full version, just buy volume 4 of Harry Potter and the Magnificent Farce on Amazon for what would have been $0.99 American in 1833.
That night, Harry, Seamus, Shaina, and the Malfoys took an old-fashioned lift to the Top Box. It was quite roomy and had all the amenities that could be expected at a six star resort. Harry didn't enjoy the glares he was getting from the Malfoys, so he led the Finnigans to the other side of the Top Box. A man in ministry uniform gave them strange pairs of binoculars as they passed him.
"What're these?" asked Harry.
"Omnioculars. Standard sporting event fare," said Shaina knowledgably.
"How would you know?"
"I once pursued a witch who enjoyed Lacrosse. They were renting them out from a booth."
Harry, a bit unsettled by this, looked around to take his mind off the subject.
"Professor Lovecraft!"
Indeed, the History of Magic teacher was sitting in a nearby seat, using his Omnioculars to record something on the field below.
"Harry, goodness! And Mr. Finnigan and the young temptress! How are you all?"
"Great, sir! Come to see the match?"
"Couldn't very well miss it, could I? Ireland versus Bulgaria, what a great matchup! They're calling it the match of the century! 'Course, they've called every Quidditch final in the last seven centuries that. It was started by some village idiot in France, did you know?"
"No, sir. You're the history professor, not me."
"I don't suppose you've ever met the Minister of Magic, have you?"
"Yes, I have, actually."
"Hello, Harry! Good to see you again!" shouted Cornelius Fudge, wringing his hand. "Mr. Lockhart, this is Harry Potter!"
A man in resplendent purple robes bowed slightly and displayed the widest, handsomest, cheesiest smile anyone has ever seen. It didn't register just then, but Harry later wondered how they had crept up on them without his noticing.
"It's so wonderful to meet you at last Harry!" he said in a too-honest tone.
Harry faked a smile. He wasn't sure he liked this man.
"I think I have one of your books," he said, feeling thick.
"Most everyone does!" said Lockhart, still smiling. "Perhaps we can have tea sometime. Look me up next time you're in France."
"And this," said Fudge, "is American Magic General Lightning Mountain Dew and Japanese Minister of Magical Technologies, PC 001."
The man on his left was in full camouflage military uniform and bore a stern frown, the woman on his right wore a business suit and had glowing green eyes.
"Yo!" boomed Lightning Mountain Dew.
"Konban wa," said PC 001.
"We're negotiating a Unified Missile Defense Plan after the match. So sorry, but I can't invite you. It's top secret, you know. Please vote for me in the next election."
Fudge began pandering to the others in the box, bumping into a small house elf as he passed by. It teared up immediately, slumping forward.
"Look!" shouted Seamus.
A man wearing yellow and black robes had ascended to a podium at the front of the box. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen to the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket.
"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce… the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"
"Mascots?" Harry mouthed, remembering the funny looking costumed people who ran around at his former school's matches.
The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.
"Veela!" Seamus gleefully cried.
A hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field. Veela were women… the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen… except that they weren't – they couldn't be – human. This puzzled Harry for a moment while he tried to guess what exactly they could be; what could make their skin shine moon-bright like that, or their white-gold hair fan out behind them without wind… but then the music started, and Harry stopped worrying about them not being human – in fact, he stopped worrying about anything at all. The veela had started to dance.
"What are you boys doing? Oh, right. The veela, eh?" said Lovecraft, who Harry suddenly realized was holding them by the shoulders.
Harry realized he was standing up, and so was Seamus. Shaina merely smirked at them before turning back to the field. The veela had stopped dancing. The crowd was going wild. Several men had fallen from their boxes and landed on the roaring mass of spectators below. Apparently veela had the ability to sway the heart of man.
"And here come the little green garden decorations," Lovecraft commented dryly.
A giant green-and-gold comet had begun to circle stands. It seemed to be raining gold. Did I write "seemed to be?" I meant "It was." Great big gold coins falling like the stock market. What was the comet? A nurple of leprechauns, of course. (For those of you who don't know what 'nurple' means, it is the proper term for a large group of associated leprechauns.) Professor Lovecraft was chuckling to himself.
"This is loads better than our last field trip," said Seamus as he stuffed his pockets.
"Ugh, don't remind me."
"Who the hell makes the decision to provision an island like that with two, count 'em, TWO effing rocket launchers, a couple of dart guns, and smoke grenades?"
"At least they were decent enough to leave some deadly poisons lying around," Harry said with a rueful shake of his head. "At least it won't happen again."
Bagman ended their conversation with a great shout, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome – the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you – Dimitrov!"
Once again, for the full version, look up the book on Amazon. Buy it.