Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium.
"Wild!" he said, twiddling the replay knob on the side. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again . . . and again . . . and again . . ."
Demelza and Amy laughed, and I rolled my eyes and sarcastically said "Oh yeah Ron, cause that's just the sort of thing we came to see"
" 'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,' " Hermione read aloud from her programme.
"Oh that's always worth watching," said Dad. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."
"Definitely, Ireland has a great display, with leprechauns and all, I've seen one already, they did it when they played before England-Transylvania" said Amy
The box filled gradually around us over the next half hour. Dad kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him.
"Harry Potter, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English. "Harry Potter . . . oh come on now, you know who he is . . . the boy who survived You-Know-Who . . . you do know who he is —"
The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.
"What's "he's not a zoo animal" in Bulgarian?" I asked Dad, but he shook his head in a disapproving manner.
"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat. . . . Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places . . . ah, and here's Lucius!"
We turned quickly. Edging along the second row to some empty seats right behind Dad were none other than Dobby the house-elf's former owners: Lucius Malfoy; his son, Draco; and a woman who I supposed must be Draco's mother. Behind them came Lillian Avery, along with her parents and Sarah, Amy's disgraced sister, who had disowned herself from the Bagman family the previous year. She was now living with the Avery's, and I saw Amy give her the dirtiest look possible, which Sarah returned equally.
"Could we not find somewhere else to sit, mother?" said Sarah, with extra emphasis on the final word "I just don't want to be so close to filth like this", pointing at Amy.
"Ignore her mate, ignore her, don't rise to it, it's what she wants" Demelza was whispering to Amy, who was shaking, hands balled into fists and teeth gritted.
"I'm honestly surprised that any of this lot could afford to be up here" said Avery "perhaps they had to sell their houses to do so. Do you guys live on the street now? Because if so, I'll take great pleasure in not donating to you!"
Clearly Avery was still smarting from the state we'd put her in on the train, so she was being extra vicious with her words. I was really struggling not to lash out. Harry had other ideas though. He stood up and pointed right at Avery.
"You leave my girlfriend alone, or there will be consequences!" he yelled at her.
Avery also stood up.
"Go on then Potter, do your worst, with all these people around! Show everyone here what a short fuse you've got!"
Before anyone could do anything else though, a member of staff came up the row and spoke to Mr. Avery.
"Perhaps it would be best if we sat you elsewhere in the box, sir?" he said with a nervous smile. "They did arrive before you after all, and we don't want any problems do we?"
"No we don't" Mr Avery replied. "Please, feel free to move us".
And they left, muttering darkly. I caught a few words such as "the company royalty seek these days" and "disgusting blood traitors"
"Slimy gits," Ron muttered as we turned to face the field again. Next moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box.
"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister — ready to go?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably
Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands. "Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
"Has he been the announcer all tournament?" Demelza asked, and Amy nodded.
The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans — A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.
"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce . . . the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!" The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.
"I wonder what they've brought," said Dad, leaning forward in his seat.
"Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. "Veela!"
I felt a sinking sensation, as I knew exactly what was about to happen. Veela had an effect on males like nothing else, their beauty entranced them, and forced them to do some very stupid things in order to "impress" them. Harry already had me, a perfectly good enough girlfriend, he didn't need anyone or anything else in that department, but that didn't matter when it came to Veela. Harry stood up and put one leg on the wall of the box, and Ron got himself into a position which looked like he was about to dive into a swimming pool. I thought that was funny considering how he'd not had the courage to try it in Egypt.
I stood up and dragged Harry back into his seat, and Hermione did the same to Ron. She made a tutting sound and said "Honestly!"
"And now," roared Ludo's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air . . . for the Irish National Team Mascots!"
Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it —
"Excellent!" yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off our heads and seats. Soon, we realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.
"Leprechauns!" said Dad over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve the gold.
"There you go," Ron yelled happily, stuffing a fistful of gold coins into Harry's hand, "for the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!"
"I don't know why you or anyone else is bothering!" I said loudly, "It's common knowledge that Leprechaun gold is worthless, it disappears almost immediately!"
At these words, Ron and most of the other people in the box stopped trying to get to the gold.
The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome — the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you — Dimitrov!" A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters. "Ivanova!" A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out. "Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand — Krum!"
"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculars.
I could see perfectly well without the need for Ominioculars, though of course I understood why so many people were using them.
The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.
"And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting — Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand — Lynch!"
"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"
He released the balls, and I sat back in my seat. This was it! The 1994 Quidditch World Cup final was about to begin!