Quidditch World Cup pt.1

A sense of excitement rose like a palpable 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 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. 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.

Mr Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Chris; all of them went to buy souvenirs.

"I'll buy a green rosette." Ginny said grinning.

"Me too." Charlie said grinning as well. He looked at the twins, "What about you two?"

Fred and George rolled their eyes.

"We'll buy things when we'll be the winners." George said smirking.

"Yeah. The bet money is ours." Fred replied.

"I asked you not to. But.." Mr Weasley sighed.

Bill, Charlie, and Ginny all three brought green rosettes and Mr Weasley brought a Irish flag.

Chris was watching the dancing shamrock hats and the walking figures of the players when she heard a familiar voice near her.

"You know these all are really stupid."

Chris looked around and saw Jason Fawley, a Slytherin boy in her year with a tall and thin lady with same jet black hair like him.

"Oh hush. These are very beautiful." The lady said smiling. "It's not my fault that you don't like Quidditch."

Jason sighed. "Exactly, I don't like Quidditch because I feel it's stupid. Then why're we here?" He said with a annoyed tone.

"Because your mother loves Quidditch." The lady replied. "I used to watch every single match in Hogwarts in my years."

"Yeah because Dad was the keeper for Slytherin. Remember?" He said rolling his eyes.

Chris chuckled. Jason spotted her.

"Hey." Chris said smiling.

"Hi." Jason replied without any sign of smile. "You know you shouldn't eavesdrop on peoples talk."

"I wasn't eavesdropping. I just heard your voice, that's why..." said Chris with innocent face.

"Oh it's alright dear. My son can be very rude sometimes." The lady interrupted smiling. "But I guess you know that already if you're his friend?"

"We're not even in same house mom. We just know each other." Jason replied curtly.

Chris felt very disappointed hearing this, but she didn't let it show on her face. "Yeah," she said still smiling. "I'm in Gryffindor."

"I see. I'm Mrs Fawley, Jason's mother and what's your name dear?" The lady asked.

"Christina, Mrs Fawley. Christina Norton."

"Norton?... doesn't ring a bell...." said Mrs Fawley looking confused.

Jason opened his mouth hurriedly but Chris spoke first, "... umm... maybe because... I'm a muggle-born, Mrs Fawley."

"A... muggle-born..?" The beautiful smile disappeared from Mrs Fawley's face as she looked back and forth between Jason and Chris.

Jason sighed, "I think we should go. We had enough shopping mother." He dragged his mother away but glanced back a little. "Bye."

And they disappeared in the crowd.

"You know the Fawleys Chris?" Mr Weasley came behind her.

"Erm... just a little. I know Jason." She said looking at Mr Weasley.

"Well.. I know it's not my place to say but..." Mr Weasley looked concerned. "Jonathan Fawley, his father wasn't a very good person. He was an Auror in Minstry but he wasn't working for the Ministry... he was working for...."

Mr Weasley stopped abruptly and looked around. Chris understood what was he trying to say. 'He worked for Voldemort.' She completed the line in her mind. She knew Jason wasn't like that but, there is no need to argue with Mr Weasley, so she simply smiled and said; "I understand Mr Weasley. I'll be careful."

Mr Weasley sighed with relif. "I knew you'll understand. You're a smart girl." He said with a smile. "No need to make the surrounding gloomy. What did you brought?"

"..er..." Chris looked around the shops.

"Nothing? You brought nothing?" Mr Weasley said looking surprised. "Oh it's my fault. 'Course, you don't have Wizarding money, I should've give you something."

"No no Mr Weasley. I've money. It's just I was looking for something very nice." Chris said smiling.

As in cue Harry came towards her, grinning.

"Buy something nice Chris. It's your first Quidditch World cup after all." Mr Weasley said and went towards Bill and Ginny.

"Here. I brought this for you." Harry handed Chris, what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials. "Omnioculars, You can replay in it … slow everything down … and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Real cool thing."

"Thanks. You brought this for me?" Chris asked looking surprised.

"Yeah. I was buying for Ron and Hermione, so brought for you as well." Harry said smiling.

"What else you brought for yourself?" Chris asked smiling.

"Er.. just the Omnioculars." Harry replied.

"You're supporting Ireland, aren't you? Wait." Chris looked at the green hats.

"No I'm good." Harry said hurriedly.

"Wait." Chris picked up one.

"Chris I really don't need one." Harry said defiantly.

"Five. Green ones." Chris said to the salesman.

Chris chuckled as Harry took the hat from her.

"What?" Harry asked looking confused.

"Malfoy would've been very happy to see you in Slytherin colour." Chris said laughing.

Harry shook his head laughing a little.

"Chris! Harry! Let's go." Charlie called and they headed towards their tent.

After returning to the tent, Chris kept one dancing shamrock hat for herself and gave the others to Ginny, Fred and George.

Percy showed some signs of disapproval, when Fred and George took the hats, but he didn't said anything to them.

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 Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go."

Clutching their purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, they all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; Chris and Ginny couldn't stop grin­ning. They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Chris could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls sur­rounding the field, she could tell that ten cathedrals would fit com­fortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on Harry's face. "Ministry task force of five hun­dred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again … bless them," he added fondly, lead­ing the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already sur­rounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley's party kept climbing, suddenly Chris stumbled on the steps and her things spilled on the ground.

"Oh no." Chris get down to pick her things and sign Ginny to go on. Ginny nodded and followed the rest.

Chris collected her things and were collecting few Galleons and Sickles when she heard a man's angry voice, he was scolding someone, she was almost going to ignore them but then she heard the name "Draco." She peeked and saw Draco Malfoy, a pale and pointed face, white-blonde haired Slytherin boy, one year senior than Chris; he was with a man who had same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes and a tall and slim woman. Chris guessed them as his parents.

"I've done so much for your success Draco, can't you even try to achieve something?" The man said fuming. "But no. You can't even win a Quidditch match, let alone being famous like that Potter."

"But Dad he got a Firebolt last year, that's why..." Draco protested.

"That's why you need one too?" He snorted. "Don't think, I forgot that he even beat you with his Nimbus two thousand when you had Nimbus two thousand one."

Draco simply looked down. Chris never saw Draco looking so vulnerable like that.

"I told you if you can't beat him then at least try to create problems for him so he couldn't succeed but you even failed me in that."

"That's enough." The lady said raising her voice a little. "I don't think it's a place to scold our son Lucius."

"But Narcissa.."

"You're scolding him like you succeed everytime when you decided to do something?" The lady said crossing her hand. "And I had warned you many times, you'll not drag my Draco in this politics but you never listen. I can also have my things against you but we're here for Quidditch World Cup, so we're not going to discuss that. Let's go."

She angrily started climbing the stairs, Draco's father looked around for a bit, Chris ducked out of site, and he also went upstairs. Chris was about to climb the stairs as well when she came face to face with Draco.

"You were listening us, weren't you?" He said angrily.

Chris clutched her wand in her pocket but didn't pull it out.

"If you say anything about these to anyone... then..." Draco said gritting his teeth.

"Huh.. like I don't have important things to do other than gossiping about you family matters." Chris rolled her eyes. "Listen Malfoy, I understand what I should tell and what I shouldn't. That was a conversation between your family, I heard that by accident, so forgot it because I already did."

"Why should I trust you?" Draco said.

"Fine don't. It's not like I care." Chris said with a annoyed tone. "I've just one thing to tell you Draco, Sometimes it's difficult to choose between what we need to do and what we're expected to do. We should make this choice very carefully as it can change our life entirely."

"You... " Draco was about to say something when a voice came from behind.

"Everything alright Christina?"

Chris spun around and saw Sirius Black looking at her and Draco.

"Yes Mr Black." Chris said smiling.

Draco gave a glance towards both of them and went upstairs.

"It was Draco Malfoy, isn't it?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah, how do you know?" Chris asked.

"Harry told me, and also I saw him last year. A real mean boy just like his father." Sirius said as they started climbing the stairs.

"We're at the top box." Chris said.

"Me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, pull some strings and Fudge invited me himself." Sirius said smiling.

At last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the high­est point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. Many purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys filled the front seats. The Malfoys were sitting in the second row. Ginny waved as Sirius and Chris went to them. Sirius went towards Harry and Chris sat beside Ginny. Then she looked down upon a scene the likes of which she could never have imagined.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Chris's eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Chris saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

Just then 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. Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and intro­duced him to the wizards on either side of him. He gave a quick glance to Chris as well. Chris gave a big smile to him, which made him surprised and he hesitated a bit then gave a tiny nod and smiled as he took his seat.

"Ah, Fudge," said Draco's father Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk — Obalonsk — Mr. — well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else — you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

Chris thought how fast the Malfoys furious expressions had changed into classy smiles. Chris didn't heard the rest of their conversation but felt weird when she found Mr Malfoy looking at her and Hermione. Hermione went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him. Chris just made a surprised face and looked at Draco, who was looking furious a little, then she turned away.

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!"

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 Mr. Weasley, leaning for­ward in his seat. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. "Veela!"

Chris looked carefully and saw a hundred Veela gliding into the field. Veela were women … the most beautiful women Chris had to admit … except that they weren't — human. Because they were very different from normal women, their skin shine moon-bright, and their white-gold hair fan out behind them without wind.

The veela had started to dance, and Chris saw almost every man or boy in the box were looking at those Veela, like they were addicted to their sight. Fred and George weren't blinking at all so as Charlie and Bill, even Percy was looking weird; the Minister, Mr Weasley and other few men were flushed. She looked back and saw Draco's mother was gripping Draco's shoulder for preventing him from getting up from his seat.

"Harry, what are you doing?" said Hermione.

Chris looked at them and saw Harry and Ron had officially crossed everyone in the weirdness. Harry was standing up, and one of his legs was resting on the wall of the box. Next to him, Ron was frozen in an attitude that looked as though he were about to dive from a springboard. Sirius laughed loudly seeing their condition. Ginny giggled.

As the music stopped angry yells filled the stadium. The crowd didn't want the veela to go. Ron was absent-mindedly shredding the shamrocks on his hat. Mr. Weasley, smil­ing slightly, leaned over to Ron and tugged the hat out of his hands.

"You'll be wanting that," he said, "once Ireland have had their say."

"Huh?" said Ron, staring openmouthed at the veela, who had now lined up along one side of the field.

Chris focused on the field again.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman'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, as though at a fireworks display. 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 George as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, Chris 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 Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around under their chairs to retrieve 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.

"Your brother is in love." Chris said to Ginny.

Ginny laughed.

Chris looked through her Omnioculars and saw Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an over­grown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

Chris gave the Omnioculars to Ginny to watch.

"And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting — Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand — Lynch!"

Seven green blurs swept onto the field.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a great mustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open — four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch (which was so fast that Chris couldn't get to see it). With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

Chris felt the speed of the players was in­credible — the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names.

"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!"

"Woooooooo" Ginny jumped up and down.

Fred and George shouted as well; Chris just clapped grinning madly, while Troy did a lap of honor around the field.

"Watch this." Ginny said as she pushed the Omnioculars in front of Chris's eyes.

Chris saw that the leprechauns watching from the sidelines had all risen into the air again and formed the great, glittering shamrock. Across the field, the veela were watching them sulkily.

As the play resumed Chris realized that the Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their move­ments so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette on Chris's chest kept squeaking their names: "Troy — Mullet — Moran!" And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters.