A Show Worthy of Gandalf Himself

A strange sight caught Oleandra's eye as she walked back up the stairs. There sat a man right next to Winky the Elf; he was covered in shimmering lights, as if he was wearing a luminescent blanket. He was looking forward without flinching, even as he was being pelted with solid gold coins by the Leprechauns above. If Oleandra remembered correctly, Winky was reserving the seat next to her for her master, Mr. Crouch.

Oleandra watched as Harry walked back to his seat right in front of the man covered in shimmering lights, without reacting to his presence. Turning her Mystic Eyes off and back on again, she found that the man was indeed invisible. Was he wearing an Invisibility Cloak? Now this was peculiar; when Harry wore his Invisibility Cloak, she couldn't see him at all, but she could clearly see the man. Maybe Harry had a higher-end Cloak?

In any case, it was none of her business if some poor bloke had sneaked into Mr. Crouch's seat in the V.I.P. Top Box in order to get a better view of the game, but the man's vacant stare bothered her. Against her better judgment, Oleandra headed up the stairs and inched past Winky, who had her palms firmly pressed against her eyeballs.

Despite Oleandra standing right in front of the invisible man sitting in Crouch's seat, he still kept staring forward; there was definitely something wrong with the bloke. Oleandra slowly reached out to his head, ready to yank his Invisibility Cloak off him.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome— the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team!" yelled out Bagman. "I give you— Dimitrov!"

The invisible man's eyes suddenly flicked upwards; locking eyes with Oleandra.

"Ivanova!"

Oleandra reeled backwards in surprise.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov!"

"You!" screeched Winky, who was no longer covering her eyes all of a sudden. "You is not allowed near master's seat! Master said so!"

Winky summoned a ball of blue light in her palm and thrust it at Oleandra before she could even begin to explain that there was someone sitting in her beloved master's seat.

"Aaaaaand— Krum!"

Oleandra was blasted off her feet and out of the Top Box, sending her plummeting down into the emptiness below.

"Cloak!" Oleandra yelled.

The Lethifold quickly emerged from her clothes, taking the form of a cape and stopping her from falling any further. Oleandra sighed in relief; though that sentiment wouldn't last long.

"Uh-oh," Oleandra said in a tiny voice.

The stadium was fitted with panels all around its circumference that would normally display advertisements, the score and enhanced replays when the match eventually started. But right now, each one of the thousands of panels were displaying one single thing: a flying girl.

"What's this!" shouted Bagman, the commentator for the match. "It seems as though someone's already storming the field! And she's flying without a broom, no less!"

"I didn't do this on purpose!" Oleandra yelled back, though there was too much noise for anyone to hear her. This was mortifying; the entire Wizarding world was probably here right now, and they could all see her.

"It seems as though she's trying to say something!" Bagman continued, his booming, magically enhanced voice resonating through Oleandra's eardrums. "Could it be a publicity stunt, or a protest of some kind? Oh, and here come the security Wizards!"

Half a dozen burly looking Wizards were coming up to her on their brooms, and angry-looking Quidditch players from both the Bulgarian and Irish teams had begun circling Oleandra like sharks.

"I'll, er— get out of your way now," Oleandra told the guards nervously. "I'm sure everyone's eager for the match to start, so why don't I—"

"You're not going anywhere but with us, missy," said a muscly-type of woman gruffly. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?"

And then, Oleandra exploded.

Well, exploded is a strong word. Now, the astute reader might be wondering exactly why Oleandra had decided to explode at this precise moment, of all times to spontaneously explode. Well, if it had been up to her, she wouldn't have exploded at all; but it just so happened that Oleandra had purchased some experimental fireworks from the Weasley twins, due to their pushy sales tactics. And when Winky had attacked Oleandra with her Elf magic, the unstable fireworks' fuse was lit, so to say. And after a small delay… BOOM!

Oleandra's field of vision was suddenly filled with colourful lights, and her nostrils filled with the smell of singed-off eyebrows and hair. All seventeen of the fireworks in her pouch detonated simultaneously, filling the air around her with magnificent bursts of flames, realistic images of fire-breathing Dragons and scintillating Catherine Wheels. And the finale… a gigantic chrysanthemum detonated, leaving behind sparks spelling out: Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs. Now available for purchase at Hogwarts. For any further inquiries regarding our products, please contact Fred and George Weasley.

"So it was a publicity stunt after all!" shouted Bagman. "Those Weasley boys do make some great products, if I do say so myself!"

Eventually, the last sparks faded away and the last of the smoke cleared out, revealing a frizzy-haired Oleandra coughing out colourful fumes.

About thirty minutes later, Oleandra was thrown in lockup, and not even five minutes later, she was joined by the Weasley twins. 

"That was brilliant!" exclaimed Fred. "Never in my wildest dreams would I have even begun entertaining the idea of pulling this kind of prank at the World Cup Finals!"

"Must be because we respect the sport of Quidditch so much, I think," said George. "But if the star player of the Slytherin Quidditch team thinks it's fine to interrupt an event that a hundred thousand people came to watch, then I guess nothing is sacred."

"You know what, George?" said Fred. "I think you're right; we weren't looking at the big picture. Thank you, Oleandra, for showing us the light."

"Please stop rubbing it in," moaned Oleandra. "I feel bad enough as it is already!"

"Not at all, not at all," said George. "In fact, I think you deserve more than thanks. Don't you, Fred?"

"I absolutely think so," answered Fred. "Oleandra, exceptionally, we'd like to offer you a refund for your purchase."

"Even though we said we wouldn't," George added.

"We insist," said Fred. "Please accept this sum of five Sickles and twenty-one Knuts, as thanks for helping advertise our product on such a grand scale."

"Now, about the questionnaire…" George began, "How would you rate your experience using our product on a scale from one to fourteen?"

"PLEASE GET ME OUT OF HERE!" Oleandra screamed at the guard outside her cell.