Game Begins

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After a bit longer business talk, the group was finally ready to head toward the stadium for the finals. As they began gathering their things, the tent's entrance rustled, and Selena Rosier stepped in, accompanied by Miranda Goshawk, her teacher and a noted author of spellbooks. 

Selena's black and silver robes were understated yet elegant. Her dark brown hair was pulled back neatly, and her piercing green eyes scanned the group with mild amusement before settling on Harry. She smirked faintly as if she had expected to find him at the center of this gathering.

"Harry," she greeted smoothly, stepping further into the tent.

Harry walked up to Selena, pulling her into a brief hug before turning to Miranda Goshawk. "Madam Goshawk, pleasure as always," he said with a small smile.

Miranda chuckled lightly, inclining her head. "Likewise, Mr. Potter. I've been reviewing your propositions on spell creation, and I must admit, you have a remarkable knack for thinking outside the box."

Harry let out a short laugh. "Well, I stand on the shoulders of giants."

Miranda's expression brightened at the comment, clearly pleased by the acknowledgment. She greeted the others with a warm nod before moving to join the adults who had gathered at the side of the tent. Meanwhile, Selena lingered near Harry, her sharp green eyes scanning the bustling crowd inside the tent.

"It's good to see you back, Selena," Harry said as he gestured for her to sit with the younger group.

Selena gave him a knowing smirk. "Didn't think I would miss the finals, did you?"

Harry feigned a wounded expression. "Never thought you were a Quidditch fan, Selena. Or were you just not interested in watching me?"

Selena lightly smacked his arm, a small smirk playing on her lips. "You know I watched all of your games. Though, I'll admit, it was more entertaining watching you terrorize the opposing Seekers than anything else."

Harry chuckled. "Fair enough." He motioned toward the stadium in the distance. "Shall we?"

The group began making their way toward the colossal stadium, its towering stands visible even from their campsite. Enchanted lights swirled above it, forming glittering patterns of the Bulgarian and Irish flags. The hum of excitement in the air grew louder as they neared, accompanied by the occasional whoosh of a broomstick overhead.

Harry had managed to secure premium tickets for everyone in his group, no small feat considering the size of the gathering and the prestige of those attending. While it had required pulling a few strings and navigating some Ministry bureaucracy, having Amelia Bones in his corner certainly helped smooth things along. With her rise to Minister for Magic, their association had proven mutually beneficial.

As they passed through the golden gates leading into the stadium, Harry's eyes flicked toward a familiar figure standing stiffly near a cluster of foreign emissaries. Amelia Bones, looking utterly bored, was nodding along to some overly formal discussion about international regulations on magical sports. She caught Harry's gaze for a brief moment and raised a brow, the smallest twitch of amusement tugging at her otherwise stoic expression.

"Looks like she's having fun," Daphne remarked dryly, following Harry's line of sight.

"Thrilled," Harry replied with a faint smirk. "Bet she would rather be anywhere else."

They moved further inside, the noise swelling as they entered the enchanted corridors leading to their seats. Percy Weasley, fresh out of Hogwarts and clearly eager to prove himself, was stationed nearby, directing groups of spectators to their assigned sections. His face lit up with recognition when he saw Harry.

"You are here! Good to see you!" Percy said, his tone a little too eager. He adjusted his badge, which read Junior Assistant to the Head of Magical Games and Sports in bold lettering.

"Percy," Harry greeted, nodding politely. "Enjoying the chaos?"

Percy straightened his posture, clearly taking the question as an opportunity to assert his professionalism. "It's a remarkable display of coordination and planning. A few hiccups, of course, but nothing we can't handle."

Fred and George, who had lagged behind to heckle a vendor selling overpriced Omnioculars, caught up just in time to hear Percy's comment.

"Remarkable, is it?" Fred said, throwing an arm around Percy's shoulders. "You mean like the time that bloke from the French delegation tripped over his own robe and knocked over half the VIP refreshments?"

George snickered. "Or the time someone charmed the stadium lights to flash Weasley is Our King every five minutes?"

Percy flushed, brushing Fred's arm off with a scowl. "That wasn't my department."

Harry smirked but didn't comment, ushering the group forward before Percy could launch into a full-blown defense of the Ministry's event planning.

Their seats were located in a prime section of the stadium, high enough to offer a clear view of the entire pitch but close enough to catch the finer details of the game. As they settled in, the sheer scale of the event became even more apparent. The stadium was packed to the brim with witches and wizards from all over the world, their cheers and chants merging into a deafening roar. Flags waved in every direction, and enchanted advertisements zipped across the sky, proclaiming everything from Firebolt sales to Bertie Bott's newest line of exploding jellybeans.

Harry glanced around, taking stock of the group. His friends and their families were scattered across the row, chatting animatedly as they awaited the match. Selena had taken a seat beside him, her sharp green eyes scanning the field below with mild interest. On his other side, Astoria was perched on the edge of her seat, practically shaking with excitement.

"This is going to be brilliant!" Astoria exclaimed, clutching her Ireland scarf tightly. "Krum's good, but Ireland's Chasers are unstoppable!"

"Ireland will dominate," Blaise added confidently from a few seats down. "Krum might catch the Snitch, but it won't matter if they're already a hundred points ahead."

"Don't count Bulgaria out just yet," Daphne countered. "Krum's not just good—he's a prodigy. One well-placed feint, and Ireland's Keeper won't know what hit him."

The friendly debate continued as the pre-match festivities began. Enchanted fireworks exploded overhead, showering the stadium in gold and green sparks. A troupe of leprechauns soared onto the field, their synchronized aerial display drawing cheers from the Irish supporters. Moments later, a thunderous drumbeat announced the arrival of the Bulgarian mascots, the Veela. Their ethereal beauty immediately captivated the crowd, causing several wizards to leap to their feet and cheer wildly.

Almost every girl in the group turned to look at Harry, their expressions curios and disbelief. Unlike the other males in their party, who were visibly affected in varying degrees by the Veela's allure, Harry's emerald-green eyes remained focused on the spectacle. He watched with casual interest, completely unfazed by the magical charm emanating from the Bulgarian mascots.

"Figures," Pansy muttered under her breath, smirking as she caught Daphne's eye. "Of course he's immune."

Daphne raised an eyebrow, glancing briefly at Harry before looking back at the field. "What did you expect? It's Harry."

Blaise, seated a few spots down, wasn't quite as composed. He shook his head abruptly as if snapping himself out of a trance, though his normally smooth demeanor was clearly ruffled. "Merlin, that's dangerous magic. You would think they would ban that sort of thing at public events."

"Or at least hand out some kind of warning," Neville added, his face slightly pink. He was fiddling with the hem of his Irish scarf, doing his best to look anywhere but at the Veela.

The twins, predictably, had leaned all the way into the chaos. Fred let out a low whistle, nudging George. "Think Mum would let us hire Veela for the shop's grand opening? Imagine the customer turnout."

George snickered, elbowing Fred. "Forget the shop—how do we get them to join our Quidditch team? No Keeper in the world could concentrate long enough to block a single goal."

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