Tragedy avoided

Oliver had offered to read next, snatching the book from Cedric in his excitement to hear about the cup.

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; Harri couldn't stop grinning.

As Oliver read, the room buzzed in anticipation for its chance to listen to an event that had yet to pass. They would be the first to know how the World Cup would end. It was as if they were there with Harri as she experienced this.

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 Harri could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, she could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

Harri could only stare at the book in wonder. She was going to get to experience this. Before going to Hogwarts, she would never have even hoped for such an opportunity. Before Hogwarts, her only expectations were misery until she turned eighteen and could hopefully escape the Dursleys, even if that meant being homeless. Seeing how much her life had changed from the girl who lived in the cupboard under the stairs in such a short amount of time was mind-blowing. She had friends, a place to belong, and people who actively cared about her. She was allowed, invited, even to events and holidays.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on Harri’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.

“Never thought I’d say this,” Harri commented reluctantly, her face twisting up, “But the Ministry actually sounds competent and like they did their jobs.”

“Don’t worry,” Sirius chimed in. “Even they have to get at least one thing right. I wouldn't get my hopes up on this lasting for any amount of time.”

“The Ministry is not a complete failure,” Madam Bones said through gritted teeth. “While yes, I admit these books have shown where we have come up short on occasion, the Ministry takes its job very seriously, and we do help people. As I’ve already stated, once we leave this room, the Ministry will be correcting those faults.”

Harri and Sirius both threw Madam Bones disbelieving looks. Sirius cheekily gestured towards Fudge as if to say, “And what about him? How are you going to fix that?”

Mrs. Granger frowned deep in thought, ignoring the conversation around her. The wizard's use of magic didn’t sit well with her. Twice so far this book had mentioned their ability and willingness to mess with “muggles” minds. No one deserved that kind of power. The wizards had no regard for their safety it seemed like to her. Though she understood the need for secrecy, but what effects did this magic have on the mentally unwell? What if the person who got hit with the spell to make them leave was trying to get somewhere important? The blatant lack of regard for their right to choose had her skin crawling.

Harri tore her eyes away from the sign and looked over her shoulder to see who else was sharing the box with them. So far it was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind them. The creature, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga, and it had its face hidden in its hands. Yet those long, batlike ears were oddly familiar....

"Dobby?" said Harri incredulously.

“Why would Dobby be there?” Harri asked, just as confused as her book counterpart was.

“Dobby does not know,” Dobby answered, scaring Harri enough that she jumped. Dobby had been allowed to come and go from the room as he pleased and had vanished several days ago. His sudden appearance had Harri’s heart trying to escape from her throat.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Harri cried, clutching her chest. “A warning you’re just going to appear out of nowhere would be nice.”

“Dobby is sorry! Dobby meant no real harm to Harriet Potter!” Dobby wailed as he clutched onto her pant leg.

It took several minutes for Harri to assure the little elf she wasn’t actually mad before Oliver could start reading again.

"Did miss just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. Its voice was higher even than Dobby's had been, a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, and Harri suspected though it was very hard to tell with a house-elf - that this one might just be female. Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats to look. Though they had heard a lot about Dobby from Harri, they had never actually met him. Even Mr. Weasley looked around in interest.

“Don’t call the elf it; that’s rude,” Hermione scolded, lightly thumping Harri on the arm.

“Right, sorry,” Harri mumbled, thinking it was unfair she was getting yelled at for her personal thoughts. It wasn’t as if she had called the elf an it to their face. She really liked Dobby. They were friends. She knew the kind of treatment elves went through because of him. She would never purposely be rude to an elf. Their lives were hard enough as it was.

“Hermione,” Josephine said in a warning tone, eyeing her daughter in disapproval. “You’re being rather hypocritical right now.”

“But...” Hermione tried to protest, not understanding what her mother meant.

“Harri is entitled to her own personal thoughts,” Josephine cut her daughter off. “And it’s rude to judge her for something she never even said. I’m sure not all your thoughts are kind. And what Harri said wasn’t offensive. She had no real way to know the correct gender of the elf. It is a viable pronoun to use when one isn’t sure of a creature's gender in the safety of one's head. It would have been a different matter entirely if Harri had actually called the elf an it out loud, but we both know Harri isn’t the type to do such a thing.”

Hermione flushed as her mother made her point. She was correct even if it hurt Hermione to admit she had jumped the gun on scolding Harri. She was just so used to scolding both Harri and Ron, something the Voice had told her she had to work on. She was trying, she was, it was just that habits were hard to break.

“Sorry Harri.”

"Yeah, I am," said Harri.

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, miss!" she said, lowering her hands very slightly and looking awestruck.

Harri grimaced as she imagined what Dobby could possibly have to say about her. One elf who hero-worshipped her was enough; she did not need anymore. While Harri was glad Dobby had such a high opinion of her, she wished he would tone it down. She had accepted the elf as he was, but a girl could wish. She would have to talk to him about not starting a fan club along the elves, though. She didn’t think she had enough knowledge about elves and how one was supposed to talk to them to have more than one who wanted to speak to her. She had already made Dobby cry far too many times.

"Paying?" said Harri blankly. "Well - why shouldn't he be paid?"

Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so that her face was half-hidden again.

“You can’t say that to a House elf,” Charlie proclaimed, looking far too amused for Harri’s liking. “You’ll start a riot talking like that.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Harri questioned, hoping she had not upset Winky with her words. “Besides, I do think they should be paid. Dobby has every right to ask for a fair wage, and I, for one, intend to back him in his pursuit of a fair job.”

“Harriet Potter, miss is far too kind,” Dobby wailed as he blew into his shirt. “Dobby does not deserve such kindness.”

Harri gave Dobby a wobbly smile, unsure how to express that he deserved her kindness without making the elf hysterical.

Cedric tried to unsuccessfully stop the admiration that shot through him for Harri as he listened to her stand up for Dobby’s wants. She had made it clear in the last chapter how she felt about the prospect of more with him, and while it hurt greatly, he was going to try to shove those feelings down and focus on their friendship. His mother had been right. He shouldn’t be friends with her just because he wanted something. Harri deserved far more than that. He would not be added to the list of people who betrayed her trust. Cedric wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with all the feelings that swirled inside him about Harri, but he was going to have to figure it out soon before he did something stupid like tell Harri how he felt.

“Dobby is a one-of-a-kind elf,” Charlie explained with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “While I fully support Dobby in his endeavour, regular elves will take great offence to talk about them being paid.”

Harri groaned silently as she promised herself to never bring up being paid to other house elves ever.

“But they should be paid,” Hermione cut it in outrage. “The fact they aren’t is ridiculous. It’s not right. Wizards have completely brainwashed them to think they want to be enslaved.”

“I think we agreed to leave Elves' rights for when we aren’t reading,” Dumbledore voiced patiently, ending the discussion before it could turn into a full-blown argument.

Hermione reluctantly subsided, but Harri knew her friend well enough to know she was already planning away.

"Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun," said Harri.

"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harriet Potter," said Winky firmly, from behind her hands. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harriet Potter" - she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped - "but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, miss."

Harri really needed to find someone who could explain to her what you could and could not say to a House elf, she thought desperately. She constantly upset the poor creatures when that was the opposite of what she wanted. Her heart went out to Winky for having a master who was unkind enough to send her up into the stadium, knowing she was terrified of heights. No one should be forced to face their fears simply because they cannot disobey.

"Master - master wants me to save him a seat, Harriet Potter. He is very busy," said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harriet Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again. Harri turned back to the others.

Hermione simmered next to Harri, wanting to voice how unfair wizards were to House-elves. It wasn't right. Winky shouldn’t have been forced to be somewhere that terrified her. Why was she the only one who saw how wrong all of this was? She didn’t know how, but when she left this room, she was going to find a way to help the House-elves. She hoped for nothing but misery for whoever Winky’s master was. She couldn’t believe she was part of a culture that thought slavery was normal.

"So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered. "Weird things, aren't they?"

"Dobby was weirder," said Harri fervently.

“Sorry, Dobby,” Harri grinned sheepishly at her friend. “I didn’t mean anything by that promise.”

“Does this count as it’s not happened yet moment?” Fred whispered to his brother.

“I don’t think apologizing for something you haven’t even said yet counts,” George shrugged unsure how this should count. Harri hadn’t actually claimed to have not said it yet just that she didn’t mean it in a bad way.

Much to Harri’s relief, Dobby took no offence. Though, Harri supposed, weird was hardly the worst thing Dobby had ever been called.

When 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 Harri, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend.

Percy cringed at being so transparent. He had once thought the Minster to be a great man, but now he could only feel embarrassment at his eagerness to be noticed by such a man. He couldn’t bring himself to respect the Minister as he once had. These books had opened his eyes to a lot. He still wished to work for the Ministry, but he felt as if he was going in with a better understanding of what he was getting himself into and what he wanted to change. He knew with enough hard work, he could make a difference.

Harri and Draco Malfoy had been enemies ever since their very first journey to Hogwarts. A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. His mother was blonde too; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose.

“Aren’t we quick to judge Miss Potter,” Narcissa commented snidely. “Here I thought you, of all people, would know not to judge someone before you’ve ever met. For if I were to judge you on your appearance alone, trust me when I say I would find you very lacking.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t go everywhere with you nose stuck so far in the air as if everyone else was beneath you. Harri wouldn’t have noticed the stick shoved up your ass,” Sirius snarked back, unpleased with the insult thrown at Harri. “She’s twice the witch you’ll ever be and I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth that degrades her in such a manner. I’m not above seeing how much damage this room will allow.”

Narcissa curled her lip at her cousin but held her tongue. She shouldn’t have spoken out against Potter to begin with. It went against everything she was trying to do. Continuing this argument would win her no favors.

Harri flushed as she got told off. She couldn’t exactly blame Narcissa for her comment either since she had been rude first. But in her defence, no one was ever supposed to hear her thoughts. Harri was aware that if she compared her appearance to that of Narcissa, she would pale considerably. Narcissa was rather beautiful, and Harri knew she still looked like a prepubescent boy. Though hearing Sirius defend her did bring her joy. That’s what guardians were supposed to do, right?

"Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

“Prick,” Ginny snarled despite knowing her mother would scold her for it. She hated Lucius Malfoy with every fiber of her being. If she thought she could get away with it, she would hex the man into next year for what he put her through. She would show him she wasn’t one to be messed with. She was going to become a witch worth fearing.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes had returned to Hermione, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him. Harri knew exactly what was making Mr. Malfoy's lip curl like that. The Malfoys prided themselves on being purebloods; in other words, they considered anyone of Muggle descent, like Hermione, second-class.

The Grangers fought back their anger on their daughter's behalf. Every time they heard people out there would look down on their daughter for something she had no control over, their blood boiled. Hermione didn't deserve to be the target of anyone's racism. They wished they could do something about it but knew all they had the power to do was be there for Hermione and let her know how loved she was and how brilliant they thought her to be.

"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!"

“Veela?” Harri asked, utterly confused. How many mystical creatures were there?

“Beautiful magical creatures with a natural ability to hypnotise those attracted to women,” Fleur offered as an explanation. “Though there are ways to negate their hypnosis, most wizards don’t bother to learn too. They are also known to have married those wizards who don’t succumb to their beauty and have children who are then half Veela who usually inherit their beauty and a small form of their hypnosis.”

While Fleur was proud of her Veela heritage, she could admit it came with plenty of its own downsides. She knew she drew the eyes of many wherever she went, and while this always pleased her because people should admire her beauty, it made finding a significant other harder. She had no desire for a man who only wanted her for her looks and couldn’t fight off the slight magical ability she had been born with to attract others. She wanted a man who found not just her appearance beautiful, but her mind too. If they could not appreciate all of her, she was not interested.

And as the veela danced faster and faster, wild, half-formed thoughts started chasing through Harri’s dazed mind. She wanted to do something very impressive, right now. Jumping from the box into the stadium seemed a good idea...but would it be good enough?

"Harri, what are you doing?" said Hermione's voice from a long way off.

“Anything you’d like to share with the rest of us,” Sirius asked, eyebrows raised as he eyed Harri curiously.

Harri shrugged in return while she thought of what her being affected by the Veela meant. She currently wasn’t interested in a woman in a romantic sense, not that she particularly cared if she did eventually like another woman in such a way.

“I’ll let you know when it’s relevant to anything going on in my life, but right now, that’s currently an issue my future self can deal with whenever the situation arises,” Harri finally answered, thinking it really was for the best to leave this topic alone until she had to deal with it.

“Fair enough, kiddo,” Sirius chuckled with a shake of his head. “I’ll be here to listen if you ever want to talk about it.”

Hermione made a loud tutting noise. She reached up and pulled Harri back into her seat. "Honestly!" she said.

“Thanks for not letting me jump to my death,” Harri grinned sheepishly over at Hermione. She was going to have to learn how to ignore the influence Veela had on her. She wondered who could teach her how. She had no desire to completely embarrass herself in such a manner. At least she could count on Hermione to stop her from being reckless.

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 -

“I can’t wait to get to actually see that,” Harri breathed in amazement. Everything she had heard so far was beyond what she ever could have imagined. She doubted even knowing the outcome of the game would ruin the magic of seeing this in person.

"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.

"There you go," Ron yelled happily, stuffing a fistful of gold coins into Harri’s hand, "for the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!"

“Leprechaun gold vanishes, Ron,” Charlie chuckled, amused with his little brother's lack of knowledge. “But I doubt Harri would have known that if you didn’t, so I think you just scored yourself Omnioculars and a Christmas present.”

Ron flushed, his eyes wide in horror. That would mean he would have cheated Harri out of her money. He didn’t want that.

“Sorry mate,” he apologised earnestly.

“It’s alright,” Harri waved to him, knowing she would likely still get him something for Christmas, even if it was just sweets. It wasn’t as if she would have missed the gold. She had more than she thought she could ever realistically spend.

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.

“Sorry,” Harri winced as her thoughts about Krum were read. Both she and Hermione had not been kind to the boy so far.

Viktor grunted in acknowledgement but didn’t take any real offence. Harri had never actually said any of this to him. He wasn’t going to blame the girl for her thoughts that he was never meant to hear. While her description of him wasn’t flattering, it was a little amusing.

It was Quidditch as Harri had never seen it played before. She was pressing her Omnioculars so hard to her glasses that they were cutting into the bridge of her nose. 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.

Pride washed over Viktor for his teammates and fellow competitors. For the skill they were showing took time and effort to possess. Not everyone had what it took to play Quidditch professionally, and fewer had what it took to make it to the World Cup. They had shown they were the best of the best. They deserved this awe.

Harri spun the slow dial on the right of her Omnioculars again, pressed the play-by-play button on the top, and she was immediately watching in slow motion, while glittering purple lettering flashed across the lenses and the noise of the crowd pounded against her eardrums.

“You’ll miss the game that way,” Bill cried on the edge of his seat. The game had been through Harri’s eyes. If she slowed everything down, they wouldn’t know what was happening.

“Oops.”

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

Viktor was glad their strategies were breaking through the Irish’s guard. They had practised hard to accomplish such a feat. Viktor knew the Irish had the better defence; his entire team did too. To hear their hard work had paid off brought him a great deal of joy.

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. Harri followed their descent through her Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was -

"They're going to crash!" screamed Hermione next to Harri.

She was half right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiralled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

“Ah, they Wronski Defensive feint,” Viktor nodded, agreeing with such a play. It would have given him time to look for the Snitch.

“The what?” Harri asked as she leaned forward, her complete focus on Viktor.

“It’s a defensive feint used to trick your opponent into thinking you’ve seen the Snitch and lead them barreling towards the ground. You’ve got to use your body to block their view, and when you get close enough, you pull up without giving them the time to follow suit.”

“Do you think you could show me?” Harri asked hopefully. She didn’t have anything to offer Viktor in return this time, but she really wanted to at least see the move done.

“I’ll think about it,” Viktor answered, not indicating which way he leaned, for or against showing her.

Harri sent him her best smile, giddy at the slight chance he might show her.

- Krum hadn't seen the Snitch at all, he was just making Lynch copy him. Harri had never seen anyone fly like that; Krum hardly looked as though he was using a broomstick at all; he moved so easily through the air that he looked unsupported and weightless.

Harri was mature enough to admit she was absolutely jealous of Viktor’s skill on a broom. The other boy had completely outclassed her when they flew together. She wanted to possess such a level of skill one day.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier.

Viktor knew this was a possibility, but he couldn’t stop the disappointment coursing him. They had hoped he could find the Snitch before Ireland pulled too far ahead.

"Look at the referee!" she said, giggling.

Harri looked down at the field. Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his moustache excitedly.

“Foul!”

“That’s cheating!”

“Someone go smack the ref!”

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before...Oh this could turn nasty…

“That is not going to end well,” Viktor commented with a frown marring his face. He had no doubt his teammates would take personal office to such a thing. It was not their fault the referee did not know how to block out the Veela’s charms. The officials would have known what they were bringing for their mascots, and should have prepared for it.

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov, in particular, seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

“Sounds like the Gryffindors and the Slytherins when they play against each other,” Cho voiced, remembering how violent those games tended to get.

“They start it,” Fred shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Who am I to deny them what they clearly want?”

“It’s like they're asking for us to hurt them,” George agreed, more than pleased when this occurred. It gave him and Fred a reason to inflict serious harm while claiming it was them just retaliating. 

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Watching through her Omnioculars, Harri saw that they didn't look remotely beautiful now. On the contrary, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruel-beaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders -

“It wouldn’t be a proper Cup if the mascots didn’t have a go,” Arthur chuckled fondly. It was one of the best parts of the game.

Madam Bones rubbed her temples. Was it too much to ask that just one year went without incident?

"And that, boys," yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never go for looks alone!"

“I think Hermione needs that advice more than we do,” Fred snickered, blocking the hex Hermione sent his way. Harri and Ron might be too scared of the little witch to mock her for her crush on Lockhart, but Fred wasn’t. If Harri faced constant humiliation by her thoughts and feelings being read aloud, Fred figured it was only fair everyone else was fair game.

Harri wanted someone to realise that Krum was injured; even though she was supporting Ireland, Krum was the most exciting player on the field. Ron obviously felt the same.

Viktor sent Harri a toothy grin, rather proud of the attention his skills had earned him. While Harri wasn’t nearly as good as him on a broom, she had potential. He wasn’t opposed to showing her some moves, but only if she seriously considered going pro. He wasn’t about to waste his time if she only ever planned on playing in school. She had gained his interest, and he wished to see how the girl would grow. From what he had seen so far and then read about Harriet Potter, he had concluded that she would not be a bad friend to have. If she were Bulgarian, she would have been rather popular at Durmstrang and not just for being the girl who lived. Her willingness to fight for what was right would have been admired greatly, along with her Quidditch skills. He suspected the girl would surprise them all.

"They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione.

"They're not!" roared Ron.

"Lynch is!" yelled Harri.

And she was right - for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

Moody added another item to the growing list of things to work on with Potter. He knew her eyesight was better than most due to her being a Seeker, but he had yet to actually put it to use. He would have to change that. If she could get her reflexes up to par with how fast her eyes registered everything going on around her, she would be a fierce opponent.

"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS - good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

“Yes,” the Twins shouted gleefully. They were going to be rich! They would have the funds to start their shop.

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harri shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good...He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all....”

Viktor could admit he was disappointed at the outcome, but Potter was right. He would have wanted to end the game on his own terms. His team played well, and he was proud of them for it. Ending the game before Ireland could take a devastating lead was the right decision.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind Harri.She looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Veil, it vos very funny," said the Bulgarian Minister, shrugging.

Fudge fumed at the relation the Bulgarian Minister had made a fool of him. No one took him seriously. The children in the room found all of this hilarious, and Fudge knew he had no hope of improving their opinion of him. It was a losing battle.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own Minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. Harri noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.

“You must really enjoy birds,” Viktor committed, not disagreeing with her assessment. He wasn’t nearly as graceful on the ground as he was on a broom. It was, however, the second time she had taken a shot at his appearance, and even if it was in her thoughts, he had decided to poke fun in return.

“I…” Harri stuttered. This wasn’t fair! She never would have said any of that out loud.

Viktor was no help in the matter as he was just there staring at her waiting for her answer.

“I hate these books,” Harri finally declared as she sank in her seat as Viktor chuckled.

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

“That’s the end,” Oliver announced, ready to hand the book off now that it had nothing to do with Quidditch.