Chapter 80: Bagman And Crouch
"You've been ages," said George when we finally got back to the tents.
"Met a few people," I said, setting the water down. "You've not got that fire started yet?"
"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred.
Dad was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.
"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.
"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.
At last the fire was lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to talk while we waited, however. Harry and Dad talked about who was who Ministry wise as they passed by our tent. And I had finally been cornered by Hermione.
"So, what was wrong this morning?" she asked me quietly, as we sat minding the fire.
Inside my head, I was panicking. Should I tell her the horrible truth of me being apparently sexually attracted to her and thinking about less than friendly things? Or do I give her a half truth.
"Bill and Charlie gave Harry and I 'the talk' last night." I said, not going into detail.
"Hermione scrunched up her nose. "Oh. Well, I guess I understand the sour face."
"Yeah, I guess." I said, poking the fire. "I mean, it could have gone a lot worse."
"I agree. It could have been your Mum and Dad, like I had to endure." said Hermione, shuddering at the thought.
"Bloody hell, you got it too?"
"Two days before I came to the Burrow actually. For some reason that they wouldn't tell me, but hey insisted I needed it, even though I already knew about it ages ago."
I felt even more awkward having her not only know too, but also knowing way before I did.
"Did they go...into detail?"
Hermione cringed. "Oh no! Merlin, I would have died!"
We both laughed at that. I could picture Hermione running out of the room screaming if her parents would have told her like Bill and Charlie told Harry and I.
At last, the fire was ready. We had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward us.
"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"
We were halfway through our plates of eggs and sausages when Dad jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was walking toward us.
"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"
Ludo Bagman was decked out in 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 when he was in his prime; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger), 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 worried-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.
Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently even though he had talked a lot of shit about Ludo Bagman only yesterday, it did not prevent him from sucking up and being a prat.
"Ah - yes," said Dad, 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 daughter, Ginny and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."
Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead.
"Everyone," Dad 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 weeklong match."
"Oh...go on then," said Dad. "Let's see...a Galleon on Ireland to win?"
"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well...any other takers?"
"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Dad. "Molly wouldn't like -"
"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."
"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that," Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, he looked positively excited 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 looked like a flobberworm had just tried to crawl up his leg.
"Boys," said Dad under his breath, "I don't want you betting...That's all your savings...Your mother -"
"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum will get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance...I'll give you excellent odds on that one...We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we..."
Dad looked on helplessly as Ludo 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 into the front of his robes. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Dad.
"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."
"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly looking like what I did when I first walked into Honeydukes. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll..."
"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."
Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.
"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" Dad asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside them all.
"Not a dicky bird. But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha...memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."
"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Dad suggested as Percy handed Bagman his 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 our 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 as if he were going to the office and not into a stadium of roaring Quidditch fans. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a ruler. His shoes were very highly polished. I could see at once why Percy idolized him. Percy 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 Dursley, only less fat.
"Pull up a bit of grass, Barry," 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."
"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. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Oh," said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes - thank you, Weatherby."
Fred, George, and I choked into our own cups. 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 Dad. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."
Dad sighed deep. "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."
"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.
"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."
"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" said Dad.
Ludo Bagman looked shocked.
"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun. Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to took forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"
Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.
"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? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts -"
"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," said Mr. Crouch sharply, cutting Bagman's remarks short. "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 chinking 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, 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 Dad, 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, causing Harry, George, Ginny, and I to bust out laughing at Percy's sour face.
A sense of excitement rose like a cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.
Salesmen were 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 really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.
"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," I told Harry as us and Hermione strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Even though I purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, I also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over my hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.
"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.
"Omnioculars," said the sales wizard eagerly. "You can replay action...slow everything down...and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain - ten Galleons each."
"Wish I hadn't bought this now."I groaned, gesturing at my now seemingly stupid hat
"Three pairs," said Harry firmly to the wizard.
"No - don't bother," I said, feeling blush creep onto my cheeks. Harry had inherited a small fortune from his parents, and even though he had money to spare, I didn't want him spending it on me.
"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry told me, thrusting Omnioculars into mine and Hermione's hands. "For about ten years, mind."
"Fair enough." I gave in, grinning.
"Oooh, thanks, Harry," said Hermione. "And I'll get us some programs, look -"
Our money bags considerably lighter, we went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Dad was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.
And then a deep, booming gong sounded 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 Dad, excitedly. "Come on, let's go!"