Updated: June 29th, 2017

Chapter 7: Ireland vs. Bulgaria

Magic broke out everywhere by the time the sun went down. Salesmen Apparated every few feet, carrying trays of colorful and (excuse the pun) magical merchandise. People stopped to buy shimmering rosettes which squealed the names of the Irish or Bulgarian players, pointed green hats with dancing shamrocks on them, and red Bulgarian scarfs with lions that actually roared. There were flags from each country that played their national anthem, tiny Firebolts that flew, and figurines of the players that walked around and flew on the tiny Firebolts.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and I squeezed through the crowds in order to buy souvenirs. Ron bought a dark red bowler hat and a small Viktor Krum figurine. Harry hurried off to a cart with what looked like brass binoculars. Ron gushed over them, wishing he hadn't bought his hat. Harry bought four. Ron's face went red. The Omnioculars were ten Galleons each. Harry joked that we wouldn't be getting Christmas presents from him for about ten years.

After the four of us were done buying stuff, we met back up with the rest of the Weasley clan. Ginny, Bill, and Charlie were all sporting dancing shamrock hats and Arthur was carrying one of those singing flags (Irish anthem of course). Fred and George both sported long green scarves and their faces were painted in support of Ireland. A deep booming sounded somewhere and all at once, green and red lanterns blazed to life, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time," Arthur said excitedly.

I stuck close to the twins as thousands of people made their way to the gigantic Quidditch field. There were shouts and laughter and singing all around; the atmosphere was highly infectious. I wished Ted and Tonks were with me. They would have loved it! Dad too, he definitely would have loved to me here with me and Harry. As we got closer to the stadium, I gasped in wonder. The gold walls rose high into the inky sky. The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in purple but stopped as we continued to climb higher and higher.

"Blimey dad, how far up are we," Ron asked as we all went up.

"Well put it this way," a slimy smooth voice answered. I groaned when I looked down. On the landing below us stood Lucius Malfoy and his son Draco. "If it rains…you'll be the first to know."

"Father and I are in the Minister's box, by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself," Draco smirked as he followed his father into the Minister's box.

Harry and I shared a look. We both rolled our eyes and continued up. Thousands of magic folk were taking their seats, which rose in levels around the field. Everything was basked in a soft golden light making the stadium glow almost brighter than the sun. On the opposite side of the stadium, just below eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing appeared and disappeared, flashing advertisements for all sorts of products. We finally got to our seats, which were way high up in the sky, after a few more minutes of climbing. We were all out of breath and feeling tired, but it was so worth it.

Percy had disappeared on us. He most likely went off to sit with his future wife, Barty Crouch. It didn't bother me though; Percy would just be a killjoy and ruin our fun. Bill and Charlie went down the row first, followed by Hermione and Harry (who chose to support Bulgaria at the last minute), Ginny went after him, then Ron and I, Fred and George, and Arthur brought up the rear.

Everyone was interested in their own thing; pointing out something they thought looked cool and whatnot. Next to me, Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and tested them. He smiled, "Wild! I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again…and again…and again…"

"Ew," I scrunched up my nose, nudging him with my elbow. He laughed and lowered the device.

"Oye Ron," George leaned over Fred to look at his younger brother. "Spot any pretty ladies?"

Ron's face went red as he placed the Omnioculars over his eyes again. Down the row, Hermione was skimming through the velvet-covered, tasseled program. She shouted down to us that a display from the team mascots would precede the match. Gradually, the rows filled up over the next half hour. Suddenly, a loud fanfare began playing, echoing all around. Green and while balloons floated through the air as an Irish melody blasted in our ears.

A great green and gold comet zoomed across the stadium. It did a full circle before breaking off into smaller comets. A rainbow arched across the field, connecting the two balls of gold. When that disappeared, the two balls became one great big shamrock which floated above our heads and rained golden sparkles. I used the Omnioculars to get a better look at the golden showers. The sparkles were actually Leprechauns. The shamrock morphed into a gigantic Leprechaun doing the jig when the Irish Quidditch team burst through the middle.

"Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaaand – Lynch!"

The crowd supporting the Irish hooted and hollered and screamed their lungs out for their team. They were cut off by about a hundred of beautiful women gliding out onto the field. These were veela; women with skin of milky white and flowing golden hair. The veela started to dance, which, I must say, bored the hell out of me. They sped up the pace, putting the men into a trance. Ron's face looked blissfully blank. I looked to Fred and saw that he seemed to be drooling. I don't know what came over me. I smacked Fred's arm rather hard just as the veela stopped dancing.

"Wha –"

"You looked like you were going to dive over the railing," I narrowed my eyes at the older red-head. Next to him, George looked like he too was going to kill himself just to touch a veela.

Fred looked at me as he rubbed the arm I smacked. He gave me a half-smile, "I wouldn't kill myself over a veela, Cory. There's a beau –" Whatever Fred was going to say next was drowned out by the angry yells of the spectators. The crowd (the wizards mostly) didn't want to veela to go.

"Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Aaaaaaand – Krum!"

One of the players appeared on the big screen below. The Bulgarian crowd began to chant 'Krum' with much vigor. Krum waved to the crowd, not once did the screen show him smile. He moved on to his position as the voice of the Minister filled the stadium, greeting everyone to the 422nd Quidditch World Cup. With a wave of his wand, a golden ball of light flitted into the night sky. The Snitch had been released. The ref blew his whistle, the players moved into position as he released the two Bludgers. He quickly grabbed the Quaffle and tossed it high up in the air. The game had begun.

It was Quidditch as I had never seen it played before. My new Omnioculars were pressed so tightly to my eyes I was sure they'd pop out from the pressure. The speed of the players was crazy fast; I lost where the Quaffle was more than once. I had to spin the slow dial on my Omnioculars and press the play-by-play button so I could watch better. Purple letters glittered across the lenses as the teams did their plays. The Irish did something called the Hawkshead Attacking Formation and the Porskoff Ploy. Suddenly the announcer's voice rang out that Ireland scored. I lowered the Omnioculars in confusion. Then it hit me. I forgot to un-press play-by-play and spin the dial to normal.

Within ten minutes, Ireland scored twice more. The match became faster and more brutal too. The two Seekers pummeled through the Chasers as they chased the Snitch. The whole stadium seemed to gasp in sync. I held my breath as I watched the two. It looked as if they were going to crash. At the last second, Krum pulled off and Lynch hit the ground with a thud that echoed through the stadium. There was a time-out as mediwizards rushed on the field.

"It's okay. He'll be fine," Fred placed his hand on my shoulder to reassure me.

I pulled my Omnioculars back up to my face as I studied Krum. He was circling high above Lynch, his dark eyes darted all over the ground. A weird cross between a huff and laugh erupted from my lips, making Fred look at me questioningly. I handed him the device, turning his head in the direction of Krum.

"Look at him. He's using this time to look for the Snitch without interference."

Fred let out a hearty laugh, "Can't blame him."

After fifteen more minutes, Ireland put in ten more goals. The Irish led 130 to 10 and the game just got dirtier. Whatever happened went by so fast, the only reason I knew something was wrong was when one side booed the other in screams of rage. After an hour of brutal beatings, another time-out was called. An Ireland Beater hit Krum in the nose, breaking it, making blood gush all over. Lynch suddenly took off in a dive, having seen the Snitch. A wave of green stood on edge, cheering their Seeker on…but Krum was not too far behind him. The two were neck and neck for the second time. And for the second time Lynch hit the ground as Krum pulled up.

"He's caught the Snitch," Harry shrieked. "Krum's got it! It's over!"

Krum's robes were shining red with blood from his nose. He raised his fist high, a glint of gold clutched in his hand. The scoreboard flashed red for a moment and then lit up green: Bulgaria 160, Ireland 170. It took a second or so for the score to sink in. Then, slowly, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and became screams of delight. Krum caught the Snitch but Ireland won. I was not expecting that. I don't think anybody was.

Suddenly I was picked up and my cheek was pressed against a warm face. "We won! We won, we won, WE WON," Fred shouted in my ear.

"I know," I shouted back. "I can't believe it!"

Fred put me down, laughing. He placed his hand on my cheek and rubbed his thumb gently across. I was confused for a second before I noticed the smeared greasepaint from where my cheek was on his face. Fred smiled, "You've got a little something…"

George yanked his twin around, grinning ear to ear, "WE WON! Freddy we're rich men!"

Arthur tugged on George's sweater, making him turn around. He wanted to get out of the stadium ASAP. We had a long climb down and it would only be made longer because of the Ireland fans. I didn't care how long it took us to leave. I couldn't remember when I'd ever had so much fun before. The 422nd Quidditch World Cup was absolutely a night to remember.