August 1994

A smile spread across Bethany's face, and she spun around to see two women a few years older than Bill, whom she knew very well.

"Mandy, Arabella!"

"How do Professor Cotswold and Professor Figg know Beth?" Ginny asked quietly, but Bethany let Hermione answer, in favour of running over to hug her surrogate aunts.

"Hi sweetheart," Arabella greeted. "Hi everybody."

"Hi Professors," they chorused.

"No need to call us Professor," Many told them. "We won't be teaching anymore, so you can just call us Mandy and Arabella."

"Why won't you be teaching anymore?" Ginny asked.

"Well, we were only covering for Remus," Arabella said, finally releasing Bethany so that Mandy could hug her as well. "And he's not teaching anymore either."

"That sucks," Ron said bluntly. "He was the best teacher we had."

"Thank you, Ron."

The four jumped, turning to see Remus Lupin standing behind them with a tired smile.

"Good morning, Professor," Hermione greeted.

"Hermione, you don't need to call me Professor now," Remus said gently.

Bethany grinned. "Hey Moony."

"That works," Remus said fondly, giving her a brief hug.

"Speaking of names," Hermione said, sending a pointed look at Bethany.

"Oh, yeah," Bethany said, turning to Arabella. "I used to have a babysitter called Arabella Figg. It's not a very common name, so Hermione was wondering …"

Hermione cleared her throat.

"Okay, okay, we were wondering if there was any relation."

Arabella frowned. "Lot of cats, awful cook, constant smell of cabbage?"

Bethany nodded. "That's her."

"Yeah, that's my grandmother," Arabella said, sounding bewildered. "Squib. Merlin knows what she's doing there."

"Keeping an eye on Bethany?" Mandy suggested.

"But Jess looks after me more than her," Bethany said. "Mrs Figg only takes me when she can't."

"Albus could have stationed her there to keep an eye on you," Mandy said, "not knowing that they would have another babysitter option. I hope I can meet Jess soon; I'm a little jealous that only Ara has."

"It's not my fault I work in the Alley while you've got a nice boring job in the Ministry," Arabella said teasingly.

Ron checked his watch. "Guys, Dad's going to send a search party after us in a minute."

Bethany nodded. "Right - sorry, we've been sent on a water mission."

Mandy laughed. "Off you go then. Next time Jess takes you to the Alley, send me an owl so I can make sure I'm visiting Arabella at the same time."

By now, the sun was fully above the horizon. As they jogged off through the tents, adult wizards were beginning to emerge all around them, beginning to cook breakfast. Some of them were just using the wands to start fires (after taking some furtive looks around them); others were striking matches, albeit with dubious looks on their faces, as though certain it would never worked.

"Er … is it my eyes?" Ron asked. "Or has everything gone green?"

Bethany pulled her gaze away from a wizard who had just successfully struck a match and was now celebrating with his peers as though he'd won the World Cup.

She blinked.

Then blinked again.

It wasn't just Ron's eyes.

They had walked right into a patch of tents that were all covered with a layer of thick shamrocks.

"Bethany! Ron! Hermione!"

Seamus Finnigan, another fourth-year Gryffindor, was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent with his best friend, Dean Thomas, and a woman who must have been his mother.

Ron greeted them boisterously, leaving Bethany and Hermione shaking their heads.

"Boys," Mrs Finnigan said with a sigh. "You'll never understand them, girls."

"Like the decorations?" Seamus asked, grinning, once he, Dean and Ron had finished shaking hands or wrestling or whatever it was they were doing.

Sometimes Bethany was quite glad she wasn't born a boy.

"The Ministry's not too happy."

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colours?" Mrs Finnigan asked. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" She added.

All four assured her that they would, indeed, be supporting Ireland and set off again. Once they were out of earshot, Ron let out a long breath.

"Honestly. Like we'd say anything else."

"It did feel a little like standing up in the Gryffindor Common Room and announcing support for Slytherin," Bethany agreed.

"Right before the Final," Ron added.

"After a really tricky season," Bethany finished.

"I wonder what the Bulgarians do have all over their tents," Hermione said.

The Bulgarian flag was fluttering up ahead over another patch of tents - at least, Bethany thought it was the Bulgarian flag.

It certainly wasn't the Irish flag, and she couldn't come up with any reason why any other flag would be flying.

"Let's go and have a look," she suggested.

The tents up here had no plant life, but every single tent had the same post attached to it: a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows that was blinking and scowling at them.

Whoever he was certainly didn't want to be in the photograph - Bethany knew that from experience. Magical photographs had a way of knowing when their subjects didn't want to be there.

Any photos of her taken by anyone other than her friends (okay, by Colin) were often blank, unless there was someone else in the picture to drag her into frame.

"Krum," Ron said quietly.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Viktor Krum," Ginny elaborated, gesturing to the poster. "The Bulgarian Seeker."

"He looks really grumpy," Hermione commented, glancing at the many posters.

"Grumpy?" Ron repeated incredulously. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable! He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something."

Bethany let out a low whistle. "Wow, that's impressive."

To be playing internationally at that age, he must have been scouted at school.

Bethany knew it did happen - scouts came to the Hogwarts Quidditch Final every year, but they were only allowed to approach seventh years with offers.

That had happened to Oliver Wood last year; he had been called away from the after-party and come back jubilant, having received an invitation to try-out for Puddlemere United. He had lifted Bethany off her feet and spun her around the room until she threatened to vomit on him.

"He's a genius," Ron said. "You just wait until tonight, Mione; you'll see."

"Ron's in love," Ginny whispered to them.

There was already a queue for the tap so they came to a halt right behind two men who were arguing loudly.

Bethany wasn't paying them any attention, too busy thinking about Quidditch scouts, and Quidditch Finals, and was it possible that one day there would be grumpy posters of her over tents at a World Cup?

Several people had advised her to take up Quidditch after leaving Hogwarts, but she had always brushed them off, uncertain whether she was really as good as they thought she was, or if it was just luck.

Certainly she'd only ever lost one match, and that was under very extenuating circumstances.

And McGonagall had said that Charlie Weasley couldn't have made that first catch, and Oliver had told her that Charlie had been scouted himself, just turned it down to become a dragon handler.

Before she could think any more on it, Ginny let out a snort beside her, and Bethany glanced over to see that Ginny and Hermione were both trying to stifle giggles.

Bethany followed their gaze and her mouth dropped open. The man in front of them was a very old wizard, wearing a very flowery nightgown.

The other was a Ministry wizard, who was holding a pair of pinstripe trousers and almost crying with exasperation, trying to convince 'Archie' to put them on to no avail.

'Archie' was having none of it, insisting that he found the nightgown in a Muggle shop - which, to be fair, he probably had - and finally insisting that "I like a nice, healthy breeze around my privates, thanks."

Hermione and Ginny lost it at that, and Bethany almost joined them, staring at the sky and reciting Quidditch stats in her head to maintain her composure.

Once Archie had collected his water and moved on, the line moved fairly quickly, and they soon had their water, and were walking back to their tent a little more slowly.

Now more people were awake, they saw other familiar faces, other Hogwarts students and their families.

Oliver Wood dragged Bethany over to introduce her to his parents as 'the reason I got scouted', which made Bethany scowl.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ollie. You got scouted because you're a bloody good Keeper, not because you had the sense to pick a good Seeker."

"That's what I keep saying," Mrs Wood said, giving Bethany a smile. "It is lovely to meet you, Bethany. Ollie speaks very highly of you."

"If you weren't as good as you are," Oliver said, "we wouldn't have made the Final and I wouldn't have been there."

"He's got you there, mate," Ron said.

"Does that mean the try-out was a success, Oliver?" Hermione asked.

Oliver grinned. "Reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United."

Bethany grinned, giving him a light punch on the arm. "Knew you could do it."

Ernie MacMillan, fourth year Hufflepuff, hailed them next and, a little further on, they saw Cho Chang, the fifth year Ravenclaw Seeker. She gave them a wave and a smile, but Bethany was promptly distracted by Cedric's reappearance.

"Bethany … Sorry," he added, glancing at the other three. "Can we talk?"

"Go on," Bethany said. "I'll catch up."

Hermione and Ginny both nodded, the latter taking the saucepan from her, and both seizing Ron by an arm each to march him off when he looked like he would argue.

"He doesn't like me very much, does he?" Cedric asked wryly.

"It's nothing personal," Bethany said. "You had the audacity to be good at Quidditch and not be in Gryffindor."

"How dare I," Cedric said. "Listen, I wanted to apologise for my father; he …"

Bethany was already shaking her head. "No. No, you don't apologise. He apologises."

"He's not going to apologise," Cedric said. "I did tell him what happened, I swear I did, and …"

"Cedric," Bethany interrupted. "I know you did. You argued for a forfeit for Merlin's sake, you weren't going to not tell him. If he's chosen to ignore the facts, then that's on him. But it was a fair win."

Cedric frowned. "Only because there's no mention of Dementors in the rules."

"Yeah, but that's not your fault," Bethany said. "It's fine."

Cedric's eyes locked on to hers. "We will have a rematch."

The intensity of his gaze made her cheeks heat up a little. "We will. And I'll win."

Cedric grinned. "If you say so. I'm really …"

"Cedric," Bethany repeated, this time with a sigh. "You caught me. You're the reason I didn't get injured more than I was. We're good. Okay?"

It had been a few days before Bethany learned that part, having assumed that Cedric was in the infirmary with her after taking a hit from a Bludger.

Eventually Hermione had cracked, and told her that he had immediately shot after her once he'd realised she'd fallen, catching her about ten feet from the ground and slowing the last part of her descent.

They had both hit the ground more softly than she would have done on her own, but not softly enough - Cedric had taken the brunt of the impact and had cracked a few ribs.

"It wasn't enough," Cedric said quietly. "You still ended up in the infirmary."

"I was always going to end up in the infirmary," Bethany said, glancing around them to make sure no one was listening to them.

Unsurprisingly, no one was paying them the least bit of attention.

"I didn't end up unconscious because I fell off my broom; I fell off my broom because I passed out."

Cedric faltered. "Oh, that … That does make more sense than you just falling. No wonder you were a dead weight." A look of horror crossed his face. "Not that you're heavy! At all!"

Bethany giggled. "It's fine, I know what you meant." She braced herself for the inevitable, for the queries about why she had passed out, why the Dementors affected her more than anyone else, but it never came.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure we were good," Cedric said. "Dad'll be looking for me so …"

"You're not going to ask?" Bethany asked.

"Ask what?" Cedric asked, sounding bewildered.

"Why I passed out," Bethany clarified.

Cedric looked even more horrified at that. "Bethany, who would be so heartless as to ask that?! If someone passes out around Dementors, I dread to think what they're remembering. If you want to talk about it, then you know where I am - not that I would ever expect you to - but I wouldn't ask."

"Oh," Bethany said softly.

"If anyone asks," Cedric said, softening his tone, "you don't ever owe them an answer. Ever. It's none of their business."

Bethany nodded. "I find that a lot of people seem entitled to my business."

Cedric's hand brushed against hers for a split-second. "They're not. They just think they are." He glanced over his shoulder. "I'd better go, or we'll end up embroiled in 'Cedric is the Greatest' part two."

"He's proud of you," Bethany said softly. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Cedric didn't respond, so she bid him goodbye and hurried after the others.

By the time she got back to the tent, the fire was lit - although judging by the number of splintered matches on the ground, it looked like Hermione had needed to help.

"What did he want?" Ron asked immediately.

"Just to apologise for his father again," Bethany said.

Ron didn't look convinced, but he didn't push the matter, and Bethany was relieved. She was fairly sure that Ron's hostility towards Cedric was to do with the Quidditch match, and hopefully when Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff next year, it would die out.

Not that it mattered too much.

However good looking Cedric was, and however kind he was, he was still three years older than her - two academic years, yes, but he would be seventeen in month or so.

He wouldn't ever be interested in Bethany, not like that.

Even though the fire was lit, it was another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything.

There was plenty to watch while they waited though - their tents were pitched right next to what seemed to be the thoroughfare to the pitch, and Ministry members kept hurrying past, greeting Arthur as they did so.

Arthur kept a running commentary going, mainly for Bethany and Hermione's benefit, since the other Weasleys didn't seem that interested.

Percy, Bill and Charlie came strolling out of the woods just as sausages were finally beginning to cook.

"Just apparated, Dad!" Percy called, in his usual pompous manner. "Ah, excellent; lunch!"

About halfway through lunch, Arthur jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding towards them. "Ah, the man of the moment! Ludo!"

Hermione choked on her sausage; Bethany patted her on the back, but was just as shell-shocked.

Ludo Bagman was the most recognisable person they had seen all day - even including Archie in his nightgown.

He was wearing his old Wimbourne Wasps Quidditch robes, horizontally striped in black and yellow, although they were stretched across a large belly he certainly wouldn't have had when he played.

His nose was squashed, probably from one too many Bludgers, and he seemed to be in a wild state of excitement, like there were springs on his feet.

He put Bethany in mind of an overgrown school-boy.

"Ahoy there! Arthur, old man! What a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming, and not a hiccup in the arrangements. Not much for me to do!"

A group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards went rushing past them, pointing at some sort of magical fire in the distance, which was sending violet sparks twenty feet in the air.

Bethany caught Hermione's eye; their smiles widened into a grin when Percy - who had been saying just the evening before how much he disapproved of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department - hurried forwards with his hand outstretched.

"Ah, yes," Arthur said with a grin. "This is my son, Percy; he's just started at the Ministry. And this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred …"

Bethany saw Hermione wince, and noticed the way the twins' smiles became a little fixed.

Mr Weasley must have been right the first time.

"… Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny - and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Bethany Potter."

Bagman, who had shaken hands with everyone as their names were mentioned, did a tiny double-take at Bethany's name, his eyes flicking upwards towards the scar.

"Everyone," Arthur continued, "this is Ludo Bagman. You know who he is; it's thanks to him we've got such good seats."

Bagman waved it off, beaming. "Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur? I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I've 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."

"Is that likely?" Hermione hissed in Bethany's ear.

Bethany shrugged. "It's been known to happen. Not very often though."

"You know Lily Potter would skin you alive if she was here, Ludo."

Bagman turned around. "Ah, Mandy! My right-hand woman! Er … why?"

"Gambling in front of her daughter," Mandy said. "Not to mention you know you're not supposed to be doing that in front of children."

"It's not like I'm going to let them bet," Bagman said cheerfully.

Mandy shook her head. "Nice to see you, Arthur."

"You as well Amanda," Arthur said. "I didn't know you knew Bethany's mother."

"We were friends at Hogwarts," Mandy said, holding up a camera with a cheerful smile, "I just remembered a promise I made to James if Beth's first professional game happened without him. Scrunch together everyone and smile!"

"He made you promise to take a picture?" Bethany asked, once the picture had been taken.

"No," Mandy admitted. "That was for me." She fished a few galleons out of her pocket and handed them to Bethany. "Get yourself a souvenir."

"You don't need to …"

"It's the principle of the thing," Mandy said gently. "Let me have it."

Bethany nodded, taking the coins. "Thank you."

"Right, I need to go and rescue Remus and Arabella from the matches," Mandy said. "You'd think two half-bloods would manage it, but no apparently not. Enjoy the game everyone!"

They waved until Mandy was out of earshot, then Bagman turned back to Arthur. "So, what do you say?"

"Oh, go on then," Arthur relented. "Let's see … a galleon on Ireland to win."

"A galleon?" Bagman looked a bit disappointed, but recovered quickly. "Very well; any other takers?"

Bill, Charlie and Percy all shook their heads, and Bagman's eyes slid to the twins.

"They're a bit young to be gambling," Arthur said. "Molly wouldn't like …"

"We'll bet thirty-seven galleons, fifteen sickles and three Knuts," Fred interrupted, as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch."

Hermione froze, her eyes fixing on them.

"Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand."

"You don't want to be showing Mr Bagman rubbish like that!" Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think it was rubbish at all.

On the contrary, when it gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, he roared with laughter.

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

Percy froze, his brain apparently shutting down at a Ministry Official who approved of pranks.

"Boys …" Arthur murmured. "I don't want you betting … that's all your savings …"

Beside Bethany, Hermione was shaking.

"Don't be such a spoilsport, Arthur!" Bagman said beaming. "They're old enough know what they want! Win for Ireland but Krum gets the Snitch? Not a chance, boys; not a chance - I'll give you excellent odds on that one. We'll add five galleons on for the wand, shall we?"

Once the twins had their betting slip and Bagman had joined them for a cup of tea, Hermione excused herself, and Bethany hastily scrambled to her feet to follow her into the girls' tent.

"Mione?"

"What are they thinking?!" Hermione hissed.

"It's their money," Bethany said. "If they want to bet, that's on them."

"I gave them that outcome," Hermione said. "If I'm wrong …"

"That's what you're worried about?" One of the twins asked, making them both jump.

Hermione glared at him. "It's a valid worry, Fred!"

Bethany had learned long ago not to bet against Hermione on which twin was which.

"Mya, if you were wrong," Fred said, looking oddly serious, "that's still on us. You didn't tell us to make the bet. We hadn't thought of it, you're right - we were going to put the bet on for Ireland winning, end of discussion."

"Then why didn't you?" Hermione asked. "That part doesn't change!"

"Better odds," Fred said cheerfully. "Relax, Mya; we know what we're doing."


August 1994

"Bethany Potter! You do know who she is!" Fudge repeated loudly for the fifteenth time.

Hermione rubbed her temples, her head already pounding from the outpouring of emotions from the crowd.

Thankfully, she had realised that negative emotions had a worse impact on her than positive, so it was likely to stay just a headache.

Ron, Bethany and Ginny hadn't noticed, too busy theorising. Bagman had alluded to something big happening at Hogwarts, and Percy had done something similar just the night before at dinner.

"Bethany Potter!"

Hermione winced, as Fudge's voice got even louder. "Beth, can't you just show him your scar?"

Bethany self-consciously flattened her fringe over her forehead. "I'd rather not."

"Bethany Potter!"

Hermione jolted to her feet, her head pounding. "Excuse-moi, Monsieur. Parlez-vous français?"

To her relief, the Bulgarian Minister nodded. "Ah oui. Je parle anglais aussi, mais votre ministre est un idiot."

Hermione very careful kept a blank face at that.

"Vous semblez pour avoir un cerveau. Peut-être que vous pourriez traduire, Mademoiselle?"

"Certainement." Hermione turned to Fudge. "Sir, he doesn't speak a word of English, but he's fluent in French. Would you like me to translate?"

She hadn't intended on volunteering, but Fudge was being unnecessarily loud, and her head wasn't thanking him for it.

The British Minister was clearly annoyed about her offer, but it was clear from the faces of everyone else in the Top Box that no one else had understood a word, and Fudge was enough of a politician not to make a fuss. "Thank you, young lady; I'm no good with languages, no good at all. I really need old Barty for this."

Given that Barty Crouch's house-elf was still sitting at the other end of the Top Box, hiding her eyes while she saved him a seat, it didn't seem that likely.

Hermione turned back to the Bulgarian Minister and made a curtsey the way Sirius had taught her. "Enchantez, Monsieur. Je m'appelle Hermione Granger."

The Minister sketched a bow over her hand, brushing a kiss to her knuckles, introducing himself as Minister Olaf Oblansk.

Hermione introduced Bethany as well, and then everyone else in the Top Box.

Minister Oblansk seemed to be entertaining himself by insulting everyone in French, except for the Weasleys, whom he seemed to like, and Hermione had to fight not to laugh.

It wasn't long, however, before an unwelcome - to her, at least - visitor entered the box: Lucius Malfoy, and his wife and son.

Hermione barely heard Lucius introducing his wife and son to Fudge, too busy focusing on the emotions that had entered the Box with them.

There was nothing around Lucius Malfoy she hadn't expected - superiority, arrogance, a burning hatred when he looked at her - except the complete lack of any kind of affection towards his son.

Or his wife, but Hermione had kind of expected that, with some pureblood marriages.

Lady Malfoy - Narcissa, Hermione remembered, one of Sirius's cousins - clearly doted on her son (which explained a lot), but there was likewise no emotion towards her husband.

But it was Draco that caught Hermione's attention the most; he seemed to hate and fear his father in equal measures.

She was shaken back to reality when Fudge addressed her.

"I'm sorry, young lady; I didn't catch your name. Charming young lady - offered to translate since Barty's not arrived yet."

Hermione did not bother repeating her name - she knew from the look on Lucius Malfoy's face that he knew very well who she was.

She curtseyed as shallowly as she could without being rude (another very useful lesson from Sirius), and kept her face perfectly blank as she introduced Minister Oblansk.

Oblansk shook their hands, and then turned to Hermione. "Mademoiselle, pourquoi est-il ici? Il est un Mangemort."

Lucius appeared to turn a very interesting shade of puce, but Draco and Narcissa's faces remained passive.

Their emotions on the other hand …

Yes, there was definitely a touch of fear there, but from Narcissa more … triumph?

Clearly they had both understood the question, but Hermione had no idea what one of the words meant.

It only took her a few more seconds to figure it out.

If 'manger' was the verb 'to eat', and 'mort' was French for 'death', then together they must mean something about eating death.

And Voldemort's followers, she knew from her reading, had been known as 'Death Eaters'.

Well, wasn't this a dilemma?

Clearly Oblansk knew about Lucius Malfoy's past, but apparently not that he had been apparently 'cleared' of all charges.

Hermione could not bring herself to tell him it had all been a misunderstanding - and she certainly had no idea how to say 'Imperius Curse' in French (whether she believed it or not).

"Il est un bon ami de Monsieur Fudge," she said finally, and allowed the man to draw his own conclusions.

To her surprise, Narcissa gave her a very slight smirk and a nod.

Just then, Ludo Bagman came bounding in, like an over-excited puppy. Fudge gave Hermione a brief thank you and sat down, but Minister Oblansk once again kissed her hand with a bow and thanked her profusely.

One more curtsey later, and Hermione had rejoined the others, grinning at the look of shock on their faces.

"When did you learn French, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

Hermione laughed. "My aunt and uncle live in France with my cousin. It was either we learned each other's languages, or we'd never have been able to talk to each other."

She probably wouldn't again, it being her father's side of the family.

On saying that, her father never had seemed to really get along with his sister - maybe Tante Marie would be more understanding.

Fred was looking at Hermione with an unreadable expression, but before she could ask, Bagman's voice cut across them, magically amplified to be heard across the stadium.

"Ladies and gentlemen … welcome! Welcome to the Final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The crowd screamed with excitement and Hermione braced herself.

Despite the surging emotions and the country's mascots waging war against each other on the pitch, it was an exciting game and even Hermione - who was not the biggest Quidditch fan unless Gryffindor were playing - found herself caught up and joining in with the cheers.

The match had been going for forty minutes, when Viktor Krum took a Bludger straight to the face - there was a deafening groan from the crowd, even the Irish supporters.

The Bulgarian Seeker had clearly broken his nose, there was blood everywhere, but the referee's whistle didn't sound - he had become distracted by a handful of fire from one of the Veelas, which had set his broomstick alight.

"Time out!" Ron yelled. "Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him …"

"Look at Lynch!" Bethany yelled.

She was right - the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive - Hermione couldn't see anything below him, but the way Bethany was jumping up and down had her quite sure this was no Wronski Feint, or whatever it was called; this was the real thing.

"He's seen the Snitch!" Bethany shouted. "He's seen it!"

Half the crowd seemed to have realised the same thing - Krum's nose was completely forgotten, as the Irish supporters rose in a great wave of green, screaming their support - but Krum also appeared to have forgotten his injury.

He was right on Lynch's tail - how could see, Hermione didn't know, with flecks of blood flying through the air behind him - he was drawing level - they were hurtling towards the ground too fast to stop surely.

"They're going to crash!" Hermione shrieked.

"They're not!" Ron roared.

"Lynch is!" Bethany yelled.

And she was right - for the second time during the game, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force, and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry Veela.

"The Snitch!" Charlie yelled, practically hanging out of the Top Box. "Where's the Snitch?"

"Krum's got it," Bethany called back. "It's all over!"

Krum, his face still bloody, was rising back into the air, his fist held high, the tiny wings of the Snitch beating uselessly against his fingers.

Hermione immediately looked to the scoreboard - she hadn't been counting, but she knew Ireland had scored more goals than Bulgaria - that was why the Veela had wound up rioting in the first place.

Had they scored enough?

BULGARIA: ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY

IRELAND: ONE HUNRED AND SEVENTY

"They won," Hermione whispered.

The crowd didn't seem to realise what had happened for a moment, then slowly, like the revving of a great jumbo jet, the rumbling from the Irish supporters grew louder and louder, erupting into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WIN!" Bagman shouted, apparently just as taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WIN - good Lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

Arms wrapped around Hermione's waist and picked her up, twirling her around.

"Genius!" Fred said in her ear. "Absolute genius!"

"Put me down!" Hermione shouted over the noise.

Fred did as he was told, not before planting a kiss on her cheek. "Genius!" He repeated, before grabbing George and dancing some kind of jig on the seats.

Hermione shook her head, trying to will the blush away, and leaned over to watch Krum land, and the swarm of Healers blasting a path through the battling leprechauns and Veela to get to him.

"He looks a terrible mess. Do you think he'll be okay?"

Gold was showering over the Irish players from the leprechauns; flags were waving all over the stadium; the Irish National Anthem was blasting; and Bagman was still announcing the result as though he was expecting it to change.

"Vell," Minister Oblansk sighed, as the cheers began to quieten somewhat, "ve fought very bravely."

Fudge gasped. "You do speak English!" He turned to Hermione. "Did you know that?"

"No sir," Hermione said innocently.

The Top Box was suddenly illuminated and the Cup brought in, flanked by six security wizards.

As the Bulgarian team made their way up to shake hands with the Ministers, Minister Oblansk turned to Bethany. "Do you play Quidditch, Miss Potter?"

Bethany seemed surprised at the question, but nodded. "Yes, sir. I play Seeker for my house team at Hogwarts."

"She was the youngest Seeker in a century," Hermione added.

"Let's have a really loud hand for our gallant losers - BULGARIA!"

"That is very impressive," Minister Oblansk commented, applauding with them as his team shook hands with Fudge.

Hermione couldn't help but flinch at the sight of Viktor Krum. His nose was still bloody and he had two black eyes forming above it.

Minister Oblansk called him over. "Viktor, I vould like you to meet Miss Hermione Granger and Miss Bethany Potter."

Viktor's eyes widened as he kissed their hands, following Minister Oblansk's earlier example. "Miss Granger, charmed. Bethany Potter - you are indeed a legend."

Bethany looked star-struck. "Thank you. That Wronski Feint, by the way …"

"Don't even think about it," Hermione told her flatly. "I already get a heart attack every time your play."

"You are a Seeker as vell?" Viktor asked. "Are you any good?"

Bethany shrugged. "Well …"

"She's incredible," Hermione answered firmly. "The only time she's ever lost a game is when she's been unconscious. Even with a jinxed broom and a cursed Bludger."

Viktor looked impressed and pressed the Snitch into Bethany's hand. "In that case, ve may vell be playing against each other in a few years."

As the Bulgarian team filed out, Bethany turned to Hermione. "Did that just happen?!"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, Beth, it just happened."

Bethany turned the Snitch over in her hand, shaking her head. "How cool …?"

"So cool," Ron answered from behind them. "I am so jealous!"

Bethany laughed. "Well, I'm glad you can tell me that. Apparently, when you keep stuff like that bottled up, it causes problems."

Hermione winced. Ron may have been joking, but there was definitely envy there, bubbling away below the surface. She just hoped it stayed there.