CH 2

The Bulgarians had the sort of cheerleaders Harry was used to seeing in the American high school drama shows Dudley gawped at in his room when he thought his parents weren't watching. Those cheerleaders hadn't moved with the ethereal grace of these ones. They didn't have silver hair that made you want to run your hands through it, lips so obviously soft, eyes so lustrous and bright, or curves quite so perfect.

He peered closer, entranced, and was suddenly gripped the fervent desire to seize their attention, to do something, anything, that would attract their eyes to him.

But I hate attention, a little voice in the back of his head reminded him.

It would be nice for them all to respect you, though. The voice's second statement sounded uncomfortably like Tom Riddle and the charming, intelligent innocence he had portrayed so perfectly in his diary.

Harry's desire to be seen vanished abruptly.

A glance around him showed that the majority of the wizards around him were still enthralled by whatever that sensation had been. He leant back into his seat, suddenly rather tired, and waited for the actual match to begin.

The Quidditch World Cup final commenced in a blur of motion that, without their previously purchased omnioculars, would be completely lost to them.

Harry really rather preferred playing quidditch to watching it. Above the game as seeker he was set apart from everyone, free to drift, move and act as he willed, but this was still spectacle enough to get his blood racing.

The crowd roared and something caught him on the cheekbone. The jerk of his head from the blow knocked his glasses from his nose.

The omnioculars were lost into the rows below.

Peering under the chair he caught a glimpse of reflected light from his much abused lenses. It was too far for him to reach sitting down. As swiftly and unobtrusively as possible he summoned them back to his hand with his wand. They were, inevitably, scratched, so he repaired them with a wordless tap of his finger. The mending charm was the first and only spell he had managed to cast both wandlessly and silently; he had been forced to learn to do so after falling asleep reading in bed and rolling over his glasses. It had taken him almost two days.

Slipping his wand back into his sleeve rather than standing to return it to the pocket of his jeans he replaced his glasses and shot a wary glance at Hermione. If there was one person he didn't need to see him performing silent spell craft it was her. Her admiration and pride would last only as long as it took her to realise that she couldn't yet perform them. Harry imagined that his friend would disappear into the library for weeks to correct things and he would prefer to be able to spend time with both her and Ron. It was unbalanced without both of them there.

Fortunately both Hermione and Ginny were busy fixing something with disgusted glares and so hadn't noticed his unexplained prowess.

A brief glance showed the victim of their distaste as the referee who had, rather embarrassingly for him, stopped to dance in front of the Bulgarian cheerleaders.

He's a terrible dancer.

Harry laughed quietly to himself at the poor wizards antics. When he realised what he had done, mid-game no less, he would be mortified.

'They're veela,' Hermione whispered to him. 'I haven't really read about them, but I did come across a reference in a potions books about amortentia.'

'Isn't that a love potion?' He asked amusedly, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Hermione flushed scarlet and Ginny, who had been listening from the far side of her looked away, flushing as red as her hair. 'Harry, be serious,' the bushy-haired witch hissed angrily. 'Veela have the ability to charm most men. They look like very attractive women, but they're not completely human.'

Harry threw another, longer glance in the direction of the Bulgarian team's cheerleaders and was again struck by the same compulsion as before, but, unlike last time, he ignored its suggestion immediately.

'Interesting,' he remarked. 'I'm still curious why you were reading about amortentia, though.'

The scarlet returned to her cheeks and Hermione huffed, turning her back to him to speak to Ginny instead. She seemed quite upset over something so small, but Harry knew better than to press her on the issue.

He leant back in his seat again, allowing the lights and noise of the crowd to drift away as he focused on the mind-clearing techniques that were supposed to help him focus his intent for magic. Without the aid of the omnioculars he could only make out blurs and the drifting figures of the seekers.

His concentration was broken a moment later by a massive roar from the crowd and he had to clap an arm to his face to prevent an ecstatic Ron from clipping his glasses once again.

The reason for the noise soon became clear. Viktor Krum, Bulgaria's prodigiously young seeker had caught the snitch. His strong jaw and brows were set in a determined frown as he hung, one hand raised above his head, over the stadium.

Harry fancied he could just make out the twitching wings of the snitch within his grasp, but the seeker himself seemed rather unimpressed with the ending of the game.

The scoreboard explained why. Despite the points earned for his catch, Bulgaria had still lost.

The veela cheerleaders had not seemed to realise as they danced victoriously, drawing the attention of many wizards in the stadium, and it was only when the booming voice of Ludo Bagman announced the result that they stopped to look up at the score.

Their reaction was instantaneous and shocking. Feathers sprouted along the arms of many, their eyes grew dark and wide, lips and chins elongating into cruel beaks.

Not completely human at all.

Despite their new, dangerous appearance they somehow still retained their grip on the men near them and Harry couldn't deny that they were still attractive. It was something he found slightly disturbing, feathers and beaks really should not call to him in such a way.

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