Chapter 216: "Journey to the Quidditch World Cup"

The morning of the Quidditch World Cup final broke over Bones Manor with a brilliance that seemed to mirror the excitement buzzing through its occupants. Harry, despite his usual composure, felt a thrill of anticipation at the prospect of witnessing world-class Quidditch action. Alongside him, Susan Bones and little Aries Black could barely contain their enthusiasm, rushing about gathering last-minute items.

"Wands? Omnioculars? Tent?" Sirius Black's voice rang out as he strode into the room, his own excitement palpable.

Harry patted his enchanted backpack, a recent gift from Emma that had quickly become indispensable. It was much more practical than his old pouch, easier to organize and retrieve items from. While the pouch was smaller and more discreet, perfect for everyday use, the backpack was ideal for occasions like this. "All packed, Padfoot," Harry confirmed with a smile. "Though I still think we could have just apparated."

Sirius chuckled, ruffling Harry's perpetually messy hair. "Ministry rules, I'm afraid. Apparition is forbidden, even for European Dueling Champions." His voice took on a mock-serious tone. "Besides, where's the fun in that? Nothing beats a good portkey journey to get the blood pumping!"

Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but he understood the real reason behind the restriction – security. With two escaped Death Eaters still at large, the Ministry was taking no chances. Regulated travel meant controlled access points, easier to monitor and protect. They were determined not to make fools of themselves in front of the entire wizarding world. While apparition had been allowed in previous years, this time it was strictly forbidden.

Amelia Bones bustled in, her usually stern face creased with a mixture of excitement and stress. "Right, you lot. The portkey's set to activate in ten minutes. This special portkey ensures you don't have to queue at the public ones." She turned to Sirius, her expression softening slightly. "Sirius, you'll see them settled before joining me at the security checkpoint?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Sirius grinned, scooping up a giggling Aries. The little boy's laughter was infectious, lightening the mood in the room. "Ready for some high-flying action, little man?"

As they stepped outside the manor's wards, everyone gathered around the portkey – an old Wellington boot. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the wizarding world's penchant for turning mundane objects into magical transport. The boot began to glow blue as they all placed a finger on it.

"Remember," Sirius instructed, "keep your finger on it no matter what. And try to land on your feet – it takes practice, but you'll get there."

With a familiar, yet always unsettling, jerk behind the navel, they were whisked away. The world became a blur of color and wind, reminiscent of Harry's lightning travel but far less controlled. After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, they landed – somewhat ungracefully – in a sprawling field.

"Welcome to the Quidditch World Cup!" Sirius announced, spreading his arms wide, his voice filled with the enthusiasm of a child at Christmas.

As they regained their bearings, Harry took in the scene. Witches and wizards from every corner of the globe were arriving, their excited chatter creating a cacophony of languages and dialects.

"Quite the international gathering," Harry remarked to Sirius.

"That it is, pup," Sirius replied. "The World Cup brings everyone together."

Soon they arrived at their destination. A small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry 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. The sight was both impressive and slightly chaotic, a testament to the scale of the event.

"Bit of a mess, isn't it?" Sirius muttered, noticing Harry's raised eyebrow. "Ministry's been scrambling to find a big enough venue. Had to rent this field from the Muggles. Poor planning, if you ask me, but what can you do?" His tone suggested this wasn't the first time he'd voiced such concerns.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harry knew from a glance that the person was a non-magical individual. It was a confused-looking Muggle who seemed utterly overwhelmed by the strange visitors in their odd attire. Sirius approached him, paid for their spot, and added a subtle memory charm for good measure.

Harry, ever analytical, couldn't help but question the setup. "Why have the caretaker at all?" he asked Sirius quietly as they moved away. "We could have kept him away for a day and avoided much of the secrecy requirements."

Sirius sighed, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "No idea. Someone in the ministry didn't think the whole thing through. Amelia did broach the subject, but the minister wasn't listening. He thinks Amelia is after his job and doesn't want to listen to any of her suggestions."

Harry's mind immediately began to analyze the implications. "With the actions the minister is taking, his time in office is ticking. Does Amelia want the job?"

Sirius glanced around, suddenly aware of their surroundings. "This isn't the place to talk about this," he said, his voice low. "Let's enjoy the day and forget about other things. I also have to leave quickly."

As they walked to their designated area, familiar faces began to appear in the crowd. Harry spotted several of his dueling competitors, their faces lighting up in recognition. Hogwarts classmates called out greetings, and he even noticed a group of Beauxbatons students whispering and pointing in his direction. His recent victory in the European Dueling Championship had clearly elevated his status in the international wizarding community.

"Harry! Harry Potter!" a heavily accented voice called out. It was Viktor Volkov, the Russian Duelist and Harry's final opponent in the Dueling Championship. The burly man approached with a broad smile, his hand extended in greeting. "Good to see you, my friend. Ready for great match tonight?"

Harry shook Volkov's hand warmly, pleased to see a friendly face. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You rooting for Bulgaria?" he asked, noting Volkov's attire that screamed Bulgarian fan.

Viktor's chest swelled with pride. "Yes. We have the greatest seeker in the world. A prodigy just like you, my young friend."

Harry nodded, acknowledging the compliment while offering his own analysis. "I agree he's good, but from my research, his teammates aren't quite to the same level. The Irish chasers are going to be a real challenge for Bulgaria's defense. It'll be a good match, no doubt about it."

Viktor's eyes gleamed with competitive spirit. "Maybe, but Krum will win us the game with the snitch. You'll see, Potter. It will be a match to remember!"

After exchanging a few more pleasantries and predictions, Harry bid farewell to Volkov and continued on to their camping spot. Setting up the tent was a quick affair with magic, though they made a show of hammering pegs and struggling with poles for the benefit of any watching Muggles. There were none around, but the charade was necessary – Sirius, after all, was responsible for enforcing these somewhat absurd rules.

As they stepped inside the tent, Susan and Aries gasped in awe. The interior was massive, more like a small apartment than a tent, with multiple rooms, a fully equipped kitchen, and even a small library.

"Right," Sirius said, checking his watch and straightening his Auror robes. "I've got to head back to help Amelia with security. Harry, you're in charge." His tone became serious for a moment. "Keep an eye on these two, alright? And remember, constant vigilance!"

Harry nodded. "We'll be fine, Sirius. Go save the world, or whatever it is you Aurors do."

With a laugh and a final hug for Aries, Sirius ran out, leaving Harry with his younger charges. Harry turned to Susan and Aries, a mischievous glint in his eye that belied the vigilance he knew he'd need to maintain. "So, who's up for exploring?"