That night Zarif slept on the couch of the Weasley's house, having volunteered to do so as not enough room for everyone in the beds. He was kept company by the pets as Crookshanks, Autumn, and Elixir slept with him until he was awakened early the following day. They barely had time to eat before heading out. There was talk about Apparating. A form of basic teleportation that Zarif understood was very difficult to do and, if you mess up, you can send parts of your body somewhere while leaving other parts behind. Part of Zarif wondered how the two hadn't died as they were mentioned who had splinched left half their bodies behind.
Right before they left, Mrs. Weasley had managed to find more things the twins had developed for their business, leaving the twins in a bit of a sour mood. As they were heading out, Harry inquired about portkeys which Zarif mostly tuned out having researched them along with other enchanted items in his second year. Arriving, they started searching for the portkey until someone had called out to them. Heading towards the voice, they found Cedric and his father waiting there. "Cedric, how are you?" Zarif asks, pleasantly surprised.
"Well enough. I have been looking into tournaments for the dueling club this year. I hope you are ready to get more first-place trophies for the club," Cedric says, smirking, making his father Amos Diggory burst with pride even though he seemed a bit tired like Cedric.
"Rough night?" Zarif asks.
"Somewhat. We had to get up around two to travel here," Cedric says, rubbing his eyes a bit as his father and Mr. Weasley talked.
"All that is left is Merula," Zarif says as Autumn scans the area for her.
"Oh? That is good. I was hoping to talk to more members as I have a few ideas for our club," Cedric says before starting on a few ideas as they waited. After a few moments, though, they heard a whinny, and it caused all of them to look around before spotting an old stagecoach being drawn by two shire horses with a man dressed in all black with a white mask driving it. The driver brought the couch to a stop at the top of the hill, and Elixir stuck their heads out wearily. 'I smell the undead,' Planner informs.
One of the doors opened, and out came Merula in a grey sweater and a green shirt underneath the buttoned-up sweater. A grey skirt is wrapped around her waist with her usual dark rippled stockings and boots.
Zarif snickers under his breath. "Close you three," he whispers to Elixir. Though he can see a close distinction by Merula's dark eye shadow, or it could be her not getting much sleep.
'Not her,' Critic informs before out stepped a wizard with short messy hair wearing a black tailcoat with what appears to be a white shirt able to be seen around the collar, and a pair of darker grey trousers with black shoes that had a buckle instead of laces. He held a cane in his left hand and smiled as he reached back in with his right hand. A pale-looking dainty hand reached out and grabbed his hand, and out stepped a young-looking woman with long ginger red hair wearing a dark navy blue dress with teal embellishments and trimmings and partially covered at the shoulders by a fluffy white coat. She has a belt with a bat-like symbol on the buckle, and she also wears a silver necklace and studs and a dark veil covering her head.
Zarif, for a moment, wondered if this was Merula's parents before realizing that Merula's parents were still in Azkaban. "Merula," Zarif greets as she walks over to him.
"Seems we made it just in time," Merula says with her usual smirk.
"Quite. That will be all Jenkins. We will be back to the house in a few days," the man says, putting on a top hat.
"Of course, Mr. Snyde," the driver says before he got the horses moving again, starting down the hill and back to the road.
"You must be young Zarif. I am Lenore, and that is my husband, Roman. Thank you for looking after our granddaughter," the woman says with a refined tone as Zarif noticed her pointed ears and glimpsed fangs making him realize she was a vampire or at least half-vampire.
"Grandmother, I don't need to be looked after. He is a friend from school," Merula says, facepalming to hide a blush.
Autumn hoots, flying over and landing on Merula's shoulder. She then hoots a few times at Lenore, almost like the owl is trying to tell the woman something. At this point, Zarif also notices how her figure and face are still looking as young as a young woman if he can guess the age in his head.
'That one is the one we smelled,' Dreamer states as Zarif puts it together and wondered if she became a vampire before or after Merula's parent was born.
"Portkey will activate in a minute, everyone!" Mr. Weasley calls, getting all of their attention.
"Time to go," Merula cheers before running to where Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory, and the others walk towards an old boot on a high hill.
Mr. Weasley gave Harry a quick rundown on using a portkey as everyone grabbed it before the next thing they knew; they were all spinning around as if a helicopter propeller before they were told to let go. Most of them flew through the air before landing in a heap near a section of woods. "Bet that cleared your sinuses," Cedric says, walking over and helping Harry up as Mr. and Mrs. Snyde landed gracefully like they were experts at traveling like this.
"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," someone says.
Looking around to the source, they saw a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt, and a poncho.
"Morning Basil," said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him.
"Hello there, Arthur," said Basil wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some. We've been here all night. You'd better get out of the way. We've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five-fifteen. Hang on. I'll find your campsite. Weasley…Weasley…" he consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. The site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory…second field. Ask for Mr. Payne," Basil says, giving them instructions as he reads from a parchment.
'Ministry is well out of touch with the muggle world if they think that is blending in well,' Zarif thinks as he looks at the two ministry employees.
"Thanks, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned everyone in his group to follow him.
"Those outfits are very off," Harry comments after they are far enough away from the two portkey watchers while they walk over the hill.
"And does your knowledge have a better set of clothing?" Critic asks him, almost smirking.
"He lives with and around muggles. I think Harry and Hermione would know," Zarif says in parseltongue to Elixir as Mr. Weasley talks to the muggle before a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Roberts's front door. "Obliviate!" he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts. Instantly, Mr. Roberts's eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Zarif recognized the spell as one that is for altering memories. The wizard's eyes widened when Merula and her grandparents walked up, noticing what her grandmother was, and kept using the spell until the Snyde's were done.
The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them toward the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted: His chin was blue with stubble, and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes. Once out of earshot of Mr. Roberts, he muttered to Mr. Weasley, "Been having a lot of trouble with him. He needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman's not helping, trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not worrying about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur." he says before disappearing somewhere.
Zarif sweatdropped, having lived amongst muggles for many years, and could see why that was needed for Mr. Roberts. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on, they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.
Mrs. Snide could only pinch her nose in a sigh in a bit of exacerbation. "And this is why I criticize the wizarding world. Low key is just not in the dictionary for most of it."
"It's always the same," Mr. Weasley says smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us." They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and there was a space with a small sign hammered into the ground that read Weezly.
'They even got the name wrong. So this is more about pride and ego than anything to do with secrecy. It reminds me of a few of the lessons Merlin gave me of nobility when I was taught under him,' Zarif thinks as they start to get ready.
"See you at the game Zarif," Merula says, following her grandparents to go find their campsite. Zarif waved goodbye as Autumn continued to ride on her shoulder. With that, Zarif helped set up the tents getting ready for the game, and Zarif was not surprised that the two tents they set up for the boys and girls were more extensive on the inside with furniture and cooking stoves.
"Wow…" Zarif sighs, awed by the ways magic just fixed up a little tent into a small apartment-sized place.
Dreamer seems to smirk at him once they look at his expression. 'Never gets boring?'
"Hardly," Zarif sighs wistfully, wondering if he can learn these various spells and charms. It would make life easier for him when it comes to his personal effects.
With that, Mr. Weasley sent off Harry, Ron, and Hermione to get some water. Zarif is relegated to get a camping chair and sits outside to watch. Throughout the day, he saw ministry wizards running up and down the field of tents, seemingly trying to 'put out fires' to try and keep the muggles oblivious, but it was obviously a futile battle. Eventually, Ludo Bagman showed up at their camp and talked to them, which ended with Fred and George betting their life savings on Ireland would win, but Krum would catch the golden snitch. Then Barty Crouch from the Department of International Magical Cooperation showed up looking for Bagman. Percy immediately got up and greeted his boss.
Zarif eyed the man inquisitively. A stiff, upright, older man dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were also very highly polished. Unlike Bagman, who Zarif got a good feel for right away, Crouch was tougher to get a read on. He gave off the appearance of a very rigid, no-nonsense rule enforcer, but Zarif called the feeling there was more to him than first meets the eye. Like he was guilty of something. Like the air around Crouch let off something that made Zarif uncomfortable to be around.
"Pull up a bit of grass, Barty," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.
"No thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box," Crouch informs a bit sternly before looking around, his eyes lingering on Harry for a bit before landing on Zarif.
"Oh, is that what they're after?" Bagman says nonchalantly. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."
"Mr. Crouch!" Percy says breathlessly, sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Oh," Mr. Crouch says, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes. Thank you, Weatherby."
'For goodness sake. Have a bit more decency, Percy. Crouch would respect you more if you didn't just come off as a bootlicker or a yes man,' Zarif thinks, rubbing his head.
Fred and George choked into their cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle. "Oh, and I've wanted a word with you too, Arthur," Crouch says, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."
Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh. "I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've 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?" Mr. Weasley says, a bit exacerbated.
"I doubt it," Crouch says, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to export here."
"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" Bagman chimes in.
"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," Mr. Crouch says. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve…but that was before carpets were banned, of course."
"Sounds to me like this Ali has a stock he is desperate to unload somewhere. So this is more about personal profit than laws for him," Zarif comments, making Percy look wide-eyed at him for saying that.
"Sounds about right with how he is acting," Crouch agrees, turning his eyes on Zarif again. "I can see why Rufus has his eyes on you. Your understanding of things like that is awe-inspiring for your age. Ludo, we must be going. We have things to see too, and you need to help with the seats for the Bulgarians," Crouch informs before handing the now drained cup of tea back to Percy. "Thank you, Weatherby, for the tea."
With that, both men disapparate and leave the rest of them to look at Zarif. "What did he mean the head of the Auroras has his eye on you? Are you in trouble?" Mr. Weasley asks, a bit concerned.
"Ah, no. He had his eye on me after my group, and I identified what was in the Chamber of Secrets before reporting it to the ministry. I also acted as their eyes in Knockturn Alley last summer as no one suspects a thirteen-year-old, and after I also deduced correctly that something was wrong with the case with Black as he never killed Harry even though he had the perfect opportunity and chose to bypass him. I sent him details of that via owl," Zarif informs, shocking them as none of them knew about those last two.
A sense of excitement rises like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wears on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seems to be quivering with anticipation. As darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretense disappear: the Ministry appears to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere. Salespeople are apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes — green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which stroll across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.
It is more aligned with what Zarif expected to see. He even got pulled along with Harry and Ron to check out the merchandise. In the end, his eyes fall on a cart with Omnioculars, and after a bit of debating, he buys himself a pair before Harry buys three more. He justifies that he can get a lot more use out of them after the quidditch match. The ten galleons hurt his finances, but it is an investment for the future.
After a bit, a resounding, booming gong sounds out somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field. "It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"
Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the woods, following the lantern-lit trail. They can hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement is highly infectious. Zarif looks at Harry, who can't stop grinning. As they walk through the woods for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly to Autumn's great annoyance, until at last they emerge on the other side and find themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though they can see only a fraction of the massive gold walls surrounding the field, it is evident that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it. "Seats a hundred thousand," Mr. Weasley informs, spotting the astonished look on Harry's face. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have gotten anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again…bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which is already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.
"Prime seats!" the Ministry witch says at the entrance when she checks their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go," she instructs the group, letting them go by.
The stairs into the stadium are carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley's party keeps climbing, and at last, they reach the top of the staircase and find themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About thirty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here. Already there is Merula and her grandparents who have taken a comfortable position.
Zarif smiles as he looks at the genuinely excited family who watches the stadium with anticipation. He chuckles before letting Autumn off his shoulder and onto the railing, letting her have her seat for the great game. "Please don't fall. I hate for you to fly in the middle of all this," he jokes with a smile at the owl. Autumn looks at him with a deadpan look before flapping her wings a little and settling herself in her spot near the girder.
As Zarif takes his seat, his familiar speaks in unison. "We smell something hidden," Elixir comments before all three heads slide out of his shirt collar and start scanning the box. "Something is in the seat next to the elf," they say as they keep studying as if they are still looking.
Zarif raises an eyebrow down to the three heads before looking around himself. 'Next to the elf…' he thinks while trying to spot this supposed hidden object…or person.
'It must be an item like Harry's,' Planner says as Zarif looks at Harry and sees he is too engrossed with everything to notice this conversation.
"Let it be for now. It might be a special or secret guest of Fudge's. For now, we enjoy the event," Zarif informs in parseltongue down to the snake as he notices more people have entered the booth. Some important-looking foreigners, Fudge himself, and then came two Zarif was very familiar with. First is Lucious Malfoy with his silver snake-headed tip cane, Dracona, his daughter wearing a formal black dress, with a woman that Zarif can only assume is Mrs. Malfoy.
Fudge spots Harry and immediately walks to him as if greeting a lifelong friend with how friendly he is and starts talking to him and one of the foreigners. Dracona's eyes narrow at Harry before spotting Zarif, and they nearly do a one-eighty in attitude. "Dracona, come and join us," Zarif offers, getting the woman's attention as Lucius goes to talk to Fudge.
Dracona starts to let a smile slip through before walking over to Zarif as he waits by the railing. "I guess you are having a good time like us?" she asks, looking at the cheering crowd around the arena. Zarif gives a slow nod as neither notices Mrs. Malfoy watching the two with a keen interest in her eyes. Though, that stare doesn't go unnoticed by Autumn, who keeps a close eye on anyone who gets close to Zarif.
"Yes, I am coming in on this completely blind, so I do not know which way the wind will blow, but I have a feeling the chasers will be the deciding factor of this match," Zarif says as Elixir slitters out into plain sight getting a lot of attention by those who noticed him. "But, let's not make any predictions that involve the Bulgarian's losing, shall we?" Zarif whispers to Dracona, his eyes gesturing into the vague direction of Fudge, Lucius, and the other important-looking wizards and witches.
Dracona smiles as well while seeing her father animatedly talk to Fudge about something. "Yeah. Don't want to mess with some die-hard fans."
"Especially, when they are officials of the Bulgarians, but I think there should be Auroras and security on hand in case we do have a riot over the results," Zarif adds. Although he didn't see it, Autumn notices Dracona's mother slightly cringe when she hears that as Bagman arrives and starts to get the match going with its introductions of both sides.
Zarif watches with everyone as they are caught up in the match. As Zarif watches through, his brain starts to do a breakdown of the players as he observes. "Same equipment, so the speed is theoretically even. Moran cut's at sixty degrees very quickly. Much faster than any of the Bulgarians. Maneuverability training seems to have been a heavier focus for Ireland's chasers," Zarif starts to mutter using his Omnioculars for close-ups and replaces to get better observations.
"There he goes again," Merula says, sweatdropping.
"I am not surprised. He did it all the time in practice and the tournament with the dueling club," Dracona adds, following Merula's example.
"Um…Lev isn't looking well. Must be frustrated being scored on so many times already…he might be about to lose his cool and start performing worse," Zarif says, zooming in on the Bulgarian keeper.
The match continues like this, and in the end, the final score is one-hundred and seventy vs. one-hundred and sixty in Ireland's favor, but Krum has caught the snitch for Bulgaria. It is near pandemonium with the celebrating. The people in the top box goes their separate ways after the award ceremony, and Zarif walks back to the tent with the Weasleys for some good rest.