The Quidditch World Cup is actually very long. I do not recall it being so many chapters when I re-read it. This is more of a filler chapter before all of the insanity begins.

RoonieTunes: Thank you for reviewing! I appreciate you!

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

Chapter Four

They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was 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. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory…second field…ask for Mr. Payne."

"Thanks, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned them all to follow him.

With a wave of farewell to Cedric, Nessa set off with the others across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, she could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Nessa knew immediately that this was the only real Muggle for several acres. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

"Morning!" said Mr. Weasley brightly.

"Morning," said the Muggle.

"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"

"Aye, I would," said Mr. Roberts. "And who're you?"

"Weasley — two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"

"Aye," said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

"That's it," said Mr. Weasley.

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

"Ah — right — certainly —" said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him.

Nessa kept her eyes from meeting the curious Muggle before them as Mr. Weasley pulled out a roll of Muggle cash from his pocket and started peeling the notes apart. Her brother seemed very aware himself that the Muggle was watching them and trying to catch every word of their conversation as he helped Mr. Weasley tell the bills apart.

"You foreign?" said Mr. Roberts as Mr. Weasley returned with the correct notes.

"Foreign?" repeated Mr. Weasley, puzzled.

"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," said Mr. Roberts, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley closely. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps two minutes ago."

"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley nervously.

Mr. Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change.

"Never been this crowded," he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up…"

"Is that right?" said Mr. Weasley, holding his hand out for his change, but Mr. Roberts didn't give it to him.

"Aye," he said thoughtfully. "People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and a poncho."

"Shouldn't he?" said Mr. Weasley anxiously.

Nessa tried very hard to hide her snort under a cough, but based on Harry's expression she hadn't done very well. Truthfully, she had no idea how the Wizarding World managed to stay hidden for so long. They lived around and near Muggles, saw them walking the streets every day, she assumed, and still had no idea how to dress like one.

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

At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Roberts' front door.

"Obliviate!" he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.

Nessa took a step back in alarm as Mr. Roberts' eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face.

"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley, as if he hadn't a single care in the world. Nessa had learned about memory modification before, but she'd never seen it happen before her. It was…a tad unnerving, truthfully. "And your change."

"Thanks very much," said Mr. Weasley.

The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them toward the gate up 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. 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 a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur."

He Disapparated.

They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Nessa was not surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious about the inhabitants. 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.

"Always the same," said Mr. Weasley, 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 an empty space with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr. Weasley happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be." He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. "Right," he said excitedly. "No magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult…Muggles do it all the time…Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

Harry gave Nessa a nervous look; the Dursleys had never taken them camping. They'd never been allowed on any kind of holiday, preferring to leave the two of them with Mrs. Figg, an old neighbor. However, she stepped forward with her brother and Hermione to help figure out how to put the tents together. Hermione didn't appear to know much more than they did and Nessa couldn't say she was surprised — she didn't picture Hermione as the outdoorsy type truthfully.

Looking at the materials in front of her, she tried to work out what was supposed to happen. It was easier to set the tent down completely and she, Harry, and Hermione worked out how the poles and pegs were supposed to go based on the slits and loops on the tent. Mr. Weasley watched them eagerly work out how it worked and Nessa was mostly useless once the tent was facing up since she was so short. The second tent was much easier than the first, having gotten a hang of the first one. Mr. Weasley watched the entire process, very eager to help where he could, though he was mostly a hindrance because he got thoroughly overexcited when it came to using the mallet.

Nessa stood back to admire their handiwork, brushing the dirt off her hands. Nobody would guess they belonged to wizards, but the trouble was that they were two-man tents, and, once Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived, they would be a party of twelve. Harry and Hermione seemed to have spotted the same problem, and the three of them shared a quizzical look. Mr. Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent.

"We'll be a bit cramped," he called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

Nessa shared a skeptical look with her brother, but ducked under the tent flap and entered the tent. Her jaw dropped at the sight before her. It was more like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Oddly enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs. Figg's house: There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

"Well, it's not for long," said Mr. Weasley, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago."

Nessa exited the tent when they began discussing where to get water. The twins and Tori were huddled near the wood, muttering quietly together. Nessa rolled her eyes and deliberately chose not to go over and ask them what they were talking about, instead going into the girls' tent to put her backpack in their room. It was smaller in here, though still equipped with a small kitchen and bathroom. Only two bunk beds took up the bedroom, although they were fit so close together that only one person could walk between them at a time. She swung her bag onto one of the bottom bunks and made her way back outside, passing Harry, Ron, and Hermione on her way out.

"We're getting water," Harry said to her. "Mr. Weasley wants the rest of you to get wood for a fire."

Nessa nodded and exited the tent again. Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. There were a great number of witches and wizards in the world, it was just now dawning on her. She'd never thought much about it, but there were so many tents, spanning miles and miles, that she realized just how many of them there must truly be — in England and within other countries.

"Why are we starting a fire if we have a kitchen, Dad?" Ginny asked curiously as Nessa made her way back up to the group of them.

"Anti-Muggle security, Ginny!" said Mr. Weasley, positively bouncing with excitement. Nessa had the distinct impression that this was not the true reason for his desire to build a fire. " When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it! They do, don't they, Nessa?"

"They do," she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing at his boyish excitement.

"Well, then," Mr. Weasley said, clapping as if that settled it. "We need wood. I'm sure there's plenty to find in the wood over here."

Nessa refrained from saying it would be an ordeal. Using twigs and branches wouldn't likely be much help, but they set out to find some anyway. After several minutes of searching without much to go by, Mr. Weasley lost patience and eyed the edge of the wood cautiously before summoning a great deal of fire wood himself.

"Alright, now," said Mr. Weasley excitedly, as his children sat around the fire pit. "We'll have to light it the Muggle way, as well, I suppose. How d'you reckon we do that, Nessa? Oh! I've got that lighter you gave me for Christmas last year! Marvelous thing!"

"Er — matches might be easier," she replied. He could drop the match into the fire and let it light everything around it. She was a tad terrified that he would light his whole arm on fire using the lighter.

Not that she really had any idea what she was doing on this front either. The Dursleys had always had the electric fire, so she'd never lit a fire in her life. Mrs. Figg had a true fireplace, however, and she had seen her light it on several occasions. Always with matches.

"Ah, yes, I brought those as well," he said happily, patting at the pocket of his jeans fondly. He pulled out the red matchbox. "How do these work exactly?"

"He's a nutter," Tori said seriously, causing Fred and George to snort.

Nessa smacked her on the shoulder and crawled forward to help Mr. Weasley arrange the logs in front of them into a sort of conical shape that she'd seen on the telly once. She cocked her head to the side and stared at the shape of it, trying to figure out how long it would take for the logs to light before shoving in random twigs she'd found nearby. They'd catch faster, she assumed, and hopefully allow the bigger logs around them more time to catch.

She'd only read about the mechanics of fire starting in some boring book of Dudley's once when he'd had some camping trip with a large group of boys and learned about living outside. He'd come back complaining about the bugs and the heat and the food and smelling of smoke. Starting a fire seemed a bit more complex now that she was looking at it in front of her, but she'd give it a shot anyway. At worst, Mr. Weasley would have to use his wand anyway.

"The matches?" she queried, trying not to laugh as Mr. Weasley kneeled beside her in excitement. Leaning forward, she opened the box and grabbed out a matchstick and held it out for him to see. "This bit at the top here," she said patiently, pointing to the red, rounder side of the stick, "is some sort of wax or chemical or something that will catch fire when you apply friction." She smiled at his noise of wonder, as his children shook their heads behind them. She took the box from him and twisted it, so he could see the black strip on one side of it. "You drag the match across here and it will light the match."

She took the match in her hand and struck it quickly across the black strip on the box. The match lit with a soft, sparking noise and Mr. Weasley whooped in excitement, but his sudden exhalation caused the match in her fingers to go out.

"Wondrous," he said, seeming not at all disappointed by this sudden turn of events. "May I?"

She eyed him cautiously, but handed the matchsticks back to him and scooted back to sit with her friends again. She watched in amusement as Mr. Weasley tried his hand at lighting the matches. His first few tries were too hard, causing the matches to splinter around him. His next was so soft that they made scratching noises, but did not light. He did manage to light a few, but promptly dropped them in surprise. One, he managed to light, and stared at the flame for so long that it burned down the entire stick and burned his fingers, causing him to drop it hastily and the flame went out.

"He's going to set the whole bloody wood on fire," Fred said, shaking his head ruefully.

Nessa snorted.

"Don't say that," she said, eyeing the forest behind them anxiously. "That'd be a nightmare."

"It's going to be ages until he gets it lit," said Ginny, eyeing her father cautiously, as if she half expected him to catch himself on fire. "Maybe you should just do it."

Nessa grinned at her.

"I will when the others get back," she said, eyeing Mr. Weasley fondly. "He's having fun."

He did, in fact, look as though he were having the time of his life, even as splintered and blackened matches grew in piles around him. She'd never seen such childlike enjoyment in a grown man before, and she suspected it would not be the last time she'd see him this excited in the next few hours.

When she looked back at her friends, George was looking at her with an expression she'd not seen before, some twinkle in his eye that made her entire body freeze, a sort of secret smile on his face that gentled his expression. There was something deep in his eyes that she couldn't quite place, as if whatever she'd said or done about his father had sparked something in them. Her heart started pounding in her ears as she stared at him, although no one else seemed to notice, as they continued talking around them.

"You know, I think he'd let us live with Muggles if Molly didn't stop him," Tori said, pulling Nessa's gaze from George slowly.

She could feel George looking at her still, but her racing heart made it difficult to look back at him. Or maybe it was her anxiety, she couldn't tell, but looking back at him now threatened to break something in her if he kept looking at her like that.

"You've been ages," said George when Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally got back.

Nessa cleared her throat and looked at George out of the corner of her eye, exhaling a little when that expression was no longer on his face. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat around the circle as well, a kettle of water in front of them.

"Met a few people," said Ron. "You not got that fire started yet?"

"Nessa's letting Dad have fun with the matches," said Fred.

Ron looked at his father at this statement and snorted. Hermione eyed him in amusement as he promptly dropped another match and watched it go out.

"Here, Mr. Weasley," Nessa said gently, moving toward him again and putting a hand over his to strike the match and helping him keep hold of it long enough to light the kindling beneath the stack of logs.

"Well, I'll be," said Mr. Weasley, excitedly. "Would you look at that? I've lit my first fire!"

Fred snorted and Nessa shot him a sharp look before he could mention Nessa's assistance. Tori laughed when Fred held up his hands in placation. Nessa looked over at her brother to ask who they had met on the way to get water, when she got a good look at him and gave him an odd look.

"Why are you all wet?" she said, pointing at the dark wet spot on the front of his T-shirt.

Ron smirked as Harry's entire face went red. Nessa stared at him in curiosity.

"Nothing," he said hastily, stomping on Ron's foot when he opened his mouth to say something. The twins and Tori broke off from their conversations to grin evilly at Harry, as if they were going to push him to speak. "I tripped on a bit of grass. What's for breakfast then?"

Hermione, who was sitting next to Nessa, leaned over to whisper in her ear, "We saw Cho Chang on the way. She waved at him and he spilled the entire kettle down his front."

It took a great deal of effort on her part not to burst into laughter, as she listened to Mr. Weasley tell Harry and Ron that it would be some time before breakfast still.

It was at least another hour before the fire was hot enough to cook anything, but there was plenty to watch while they waited. The campsites around them were beginning to rouse. Those with children rose first and Nessa watched in interest as a Ministry wizard raced past to scold a group of small children who were riding tiny brooms that went only high enough so that their toes skimmed the dewy grass beneath.

A few tents down, there was a set of twins, no older than six, cackling madly as they poked at their baby sister with a wand they'd clearly pilfered. The little girl's small tufts of hair were changing a plethora of colors — from green to pink to polka dot blue. She watched them be scolded by their mother once she'd realized her wand was missing, and wondered idly if this was how Mrs. Weasley had felt about her own twin sons. Perhaps, magical twins were more trouble than they were worth…

A few feet down from those boys were a group of surly looking wizards, their tent bedecked in a large, moving photo of a Quidditch player wearing scarlet robes. The player in the photo looked as surly as the wizards who were seated around the fire in front of him, but he had heavy and thick, black eyebrows. All he did was scowl and blink.

"Viktor Krum," Tori said from beside her, noticing where her attention had landed. "The Bulgarian Seeker," she explained further at Nessa's confused expression. "He's an unbelievable player. Personally, I think he's the only reason Bulgaria has gotten this far."

"He looks — how old is he?"

"Eighteen, I think," Fred said from Tori's other side. "Still in school, I reckon."

Nessa gaped at him. How could that be possible?

"Bit of a legend," George said, nodding at her shocked face. "No idea how he does it. Ron's in love with him."

Ginny batted her eyelashes from her position next to George and pretended to swoon into him, sending the twins into peals of laughter. Ron glared at her.

"I'm not in love with him," Ron groused. "He's a genius, you'll see tonight."

At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.

"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"

Bill and Charlie squeezed in, one on each side of Nessa, and she tried not to tense at being between two Weasleys that she didn't know particularly well. George's suspicious look at his older brothers did not help matters, nor did Fred, Tori, and Ginny's grins as they leaned over their plates of food.

"So, Nessa," Bill said from her right. "Got a boyfriend?"

Nessa choked on the piece of sausage she'd been chewing on, as everyone at the fire looked toward her. Nessa shot forward to grab her glass of water in an attempt to wash it down easier, coughing still. Charlie hit her on the back a couple times, grinning widely in George's direction.

"Sorry about that," Charlie said genially. "Bill can be a bit abrupt, y'know. But we thought we'd get to know you a little better and all. George simply loves to talk about you."

Mr. Weasley coughed and she heard Tori, Fred, and Ginny snickering on the other side of Bill. Nessa was careful to keep her eyes away from George, although she wasn't entirely sure how she was supposed to respond to this line of questioning — she'd agreed that it was fine that they not say anything for the time being, but she didn't like lying (and she was a horrid liar anyway). Thankfully, she was saved from answering by Percy's derisive snort.

"It's her O.W.L. year," he said pompously. "I hardly think she should be focusing on a boyfriend when she's got so much to prepare for this year."

Nessa, who, truthfully, had a hard time getting on with Percy on a regular day, straightened indignantly.

"I can multitask, believe it or not," she snapped. Bill whistled next to her and Charlie chuckled. "Besides, weren't you snogging Penelope Clearwater during your O.W.L. year, Percy?"

Tori and the twins roared with laughter as Percy's face colored red. Charlie grinned at his younger brother.

"Well, Perce?" he said. "I believe the lady asked you a question."

Percy grumbled something into his plate that sounded like affirmation and Mr. Weasley shot Vanessa a smirk, although he kept his face down as if he could hardly care what they were discussing.

"Right, so, do you have a boyfriend then, Nessa?" Charlie queried her again.

"I — well, I —"

"Leave her alone, you stupid prats," George said with an eye roll.

"Wait, I thought she was dating G —" Ron started and then swore loudly when Ginny stomped on his foot.

Nessa shot her a grateful look and Mr. Weasley gave Ron a reprimanding look for his foul language.

"Ah, so, she is dating someone then," said Bill, nodding as if this were a very important piece of information. "Hopefully, someone not as ugly as George, eh?"

George rolled his eyes to the sky, looking as though he were fighting the urge to throttle his brother.

"Yes, but Mum mentioned that Diggory boy, didn't she? He's a good-looking bloke."

"It's not Diggory," George snapped. Bill raised a brow at him.

"No?" he said, smirking at him. "Got a problem with Diggory, do you, George?"

Nessa rolled her eyes.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked the two men sitting on either side of her.

"No," they said immediately.

"Perhaps you might if you spent more time worrying about your own love lives."

There was a long silence and then everyone at the campsite burst out laughing. Bill and Charlie grinned at her.

"Between you and me," Bill whispered to her conspiratorially, but was loud enough that everyone at the campsite could hear him. "You can do better than a bloke like George. Did he tell you about the time we dipped an onion in chocolate and he took a bite of it —"

" — threw up everywhere —" Charlie confirmed.

"What are you doing?" George said sharply, straightening in horror.

"Oh, and there was this one time, we caught him and Fred dressing up in Mum's clothes when they were five," Bill said, grinning widely at his brothers, who made indignant noises. Nessa had the sneaking suspicion that he and Charlie were attempting to pay them back for all of their pranks over the years, based on the evil spark in both of their eyes.

"George looks very pretty in a floral dress, you know," Charlie said, nodding sagely. "Although, personally, I liked the red lipstick a bit more."

"He's afraid of clowns, too, did you know?" Bill said, ducking the cup George threw at his head. "There was this one time, see, we convinced Perce to paint his face up like one we'd seen in Ottery St. Catchpole when we visited —"

"Percy's got the hair, see," Charlie explained, as if this weren't clear, holding his head up on either side of his head to signify the large curls that were normal for clowns.

" — and we told him to sneak into George's bed, you know —"

"You should have heard the screams," Charlie said, as if it were the most beautiful memory he possessed. "I've never quite heard a boy hit that pitch before, have you, Bill?"

"Not that I recall, no," Bill said, and then mocked the high pitched scream, sending everyone at the campsite into peals of laughter and made George lunge at him. Bill was laughing as George tried to cover his mouth with his hand.

"I'll bet Mum still has the picture," said Charlie seriously. "I'll bet she'll show you if you ask."

"That's enough, boys," Mr. Weasley said, although he was chuckling heartily himself. "Eat your lunch."

Bill pushed George away from him, ruffling his hair playfully and making George glare at him again. Fred and Tori were giggling every five minutes, and George rolled his eyes at them, although based on the murderous expression he was sending his two older brothers, Nessa highly suspected they'd be paying for their moment of fun.

For the rest of lunch, Bill and Charlie did ask her a plethora of questions about herself, although they were much more casual, and they didn't seem like they were going to ask her again if she had a boyfriend. It was clear they suspected that she and George were an item, and it was not missed that she hadn't actually answered the question, but George's reaction to their teasing seemed clear enough for the both of them.

They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them.

"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person Nessa had seen so far, even including the older couple across from them — both men, dressed in floral nightgowns, and arguing about how they didn't want to wear pants. Ginny, Hermione, Nessa, and Tori had been set into peals of giggles when one of them had said, rather outrageously, that he had no desire to put on pants because he liked "a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

Ludo Bagman was wearing long, Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had when he'd played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken from too many Bludgers to the face), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.

"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire. "What a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming…and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements…Not much for me to do!"

Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air. Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.

"Ah — yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning. "This is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry — and this is Fred — no, George, sorry — that's Fred — Bill, Charlie, Ron — my daughters, Ginny and Victoria," — Bagman looked at Tori sharply, in a way that made it clear he knew exactly who she was, and Tori met his stare head on with her own. Mr. Weasley continued, "And these are Tori and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger, Vanessa and Harry Potter."

Bagman did the smallest of double takes at her and her brother's names, his eyes looking at her quickly in surprise before focusing on her brother. His eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead. Nessa tensed between Bill and Charlie. Charlie squeezed her shoulder and she took a deep breath.

"Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued. "This is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets —"

Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first — I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years — and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match."

"Oh…go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see…a Galleon on Ireland to win?"

"A Galleon?" Bagman said, looking slightly disappointed. He recovered quickly. "Very well, very well…any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like —"

Nessa startled when Fred spoke over him.

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins — but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

Nessa and Tori shared a look, a silent conversation passing between them, as Percy started insisting that Bagman didn't want rubbish like a fake wand. Both of them seemed to agree that this was not a good idea, but based on Tori's expression, Nessa knew it would be futile to say anything to either of the twins. Tori gave a small shake of the head when Nessa didn't immediately appear as if she agreed and Nessa scowled, but nodded once.

Despite Percy's insistence that the fake wands were rubbish, Bagman did not appear to agree. On the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval, but Nessa was watching Fred and George swell with the praise. It tugged at her heart a little to see the two of them so within their element and she smiled a little, despite the anxiety building in her stomach at what the two of them could potentially lose in the bet. Mr. Weasley attempted to stop them, but he was forced to watch helplessly as Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.

"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away carefully, taking a seat next to Fred again. He raised a hand toward her as he sat, wiggling his fingers and she sighed heavily, taking his hand and letting him pull her to sit next to him instead of between Bill and Charlie. Ron grumbled when he was forced to move over, but Nessa ignored him. "Stop worrying, love."

She gave him an incredulous look, as if what he'd just said were entirely preposterous.

"George, if you lose —"

"We won't," he said, confidently. She gave him a hard look.

"You could," she insisted. "It's — weren't you using that money for the shop?"

"We were," he said, his voice soothing. "We know what we're risking, love. If we lose, we'll figure something out."

She did not understand the thought process, truthfully. If there was one, anyway, because it didn't really seem like there was, but it wasn't really her place to tell him what to do with his money. But she hated the thought of the two of them doing something they loathed to make money for their shop, and knew that they were working twice as hard as most people would have to make their dreams a reality.

But Fred and George had always been risk takers, and it was something she was not altogether comfortable with herself. She knew that. She also knew that part of what worked for Fred and George was the fact that they were unafraid to go after what they wanted. But she couldn't help the dread building in her gut anyway. She hardly knew Ludo Bagman, but based on what other people said about him, he hardly seemed the responsible type.

George curled a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him, brushing his nose lightly against hers.

"It'll be alright, love," he soothed when her eyes met his. "I promise."

She took in a slow breath and nodded at him. She didn't agree with it, but if this was what he wanted, it wasn't something she could stop. If they lost, it would kill her a little on their behalf. But if they won, the twins were set to make a good headway toward their goal.

She severely prayed for the latter option.

When she looked away from him, Bill and Charlie were smirking at the two of them, but George didn't seem bothered by it, so she looked away from them and tried to focus on the conversation in front of her, which sounded as though they were talking about the missing Bertha Jorkins.

"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman a cup of tea.

"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently. "But we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh — talk of the devil! Barty!"

A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly 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 very highly polished.

"What is that he's wearing?" Tori muttered from next to Fred. Ginny made a curious nose, eyeing him in interest.

Nessa smirked.

"A suit," she said. "Muggle men wear them to work."

"Do they?" Tori said, raising an appreciative eyebrow. "Perhaps we should take a walk through Muggle London then. See the sights, as it were."

Nessa snorted as Fred looked at Tori as if she'd sprouted another head.

"Are you saying Crouch is attractive?"

"Course not," she said with an eye roll. "He's far too old for one thing. And he looks like he reads Ministry pamphlets while you're shagging —"

Ginny was sent into peals of giggles, although Nessa didn't particularly disagree. She could tell at once why Percy was so fond of him. He was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager.

"Maybe he's one of those blokes you wouldn't expect to be good, you know," Nessa said. Fred's incredulous look shifted to her and George raised an eyebrow. She didn't bother looking at either of them. She and Tori had a tendency of talking like this when no one was really listening to them. "The in control type, you know."

Tori made a disagreeable noise.

"If that floats your boat, I suppose," she said. "Although, personally, I prefer my men a bit more volatile, you know —"

"What is happening?" Fred said to George in alarm. "Can we not talk about this in front of our kid sister, please?"

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Would you relax?" she said. "I'm not stupid. Besides, this doesn't even come close to the worst I've heard them talking about."

The twins were eyeing Nessa and Tori curiously now, as if wondering what in hell they could be talking about when it was just the girls around.

"But, anyway, no," Tori said, clearly having no interest in explaining to them what they talked about. "I definitely don't have a thing for Barty Crouch. I was just imagining Diggory in a getup like that."

Nessa tilted her head as if she were attempting to imagine the same and made an intrigued noise. Ginny giggled when George cleared his throat pointedly. She startled and flushed a little.

"Oh, relax," Tori said with an eye roll. "I'm sure she was just imagining what you'd look like in a suit like that. She likes ties."

Nessa spluttered at her as George grinned at her in interest.

"Is that right?" he said teasingly.

"I — that was not — Victoria!"

Ginny and Tori giggled, as Fred and George smirked at her.

"Perhaps we should put some thought into wearing suits when we open the shop, Fred," George said, his grin widening at how flustered the comment made her. "Wizard robes are a bit uncomfortable, I reckon."

"Perhaps we should," Fred agreed. "Have to set ourselves apart, you know. Might sell more products if the birds look at us the way she's looking at you right now."

"I hate the both of you, please shut up," Nessa snapped at them, her face aflame. She glared at the still giggling Tori and Ginny and ignored them by focusing again on the conversation happening in front of them.

"The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

"Oh is that what they're after?" said Bagman. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."

"Mr. Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes — thank you, Weatherby."

Fred and George choked into their own cups and the girls all looked hastily away from each other to hide their laughter. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.

"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, 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?"

"I doubt it," said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to export here."

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

"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," said Mr. Crouch. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve — but that was before carpets were banned, of course."

He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the law.

Tori leaned across the twins to mutter to Vanessa with a shudder.

"Definitely not attracted to a bloke like that."

Nessa snorted and Fred rolled his eyes, pushing Victoria back to a sitting position next to him.

" — Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?" Bagman was saying, clearly trying to get a reaction from those around the fire. Mr. Crouch merely raised his eyebrows at him.

"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details —"

"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges. "They've signed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts —"

All of them straightened in interest at this, but Mr. Crouch cut in sharply before Bagman could say more.

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

He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his pockets clinking merrily.

"See you all later!" he said. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me — I'm commentating!" He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" said Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"

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

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

"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.