Magic? || Years 1-5

Ginny Knows: Year 4/Summer

"I like Ludo. He was the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favor: His brother, Otto, got into a spot of trouble -- a lawnmower with unnatural powers -- I smoothed the whole thing over," Mr. Weasley cut in.

"Oh Bagman's likable enough, of course, but how he ever got Head of Department... when I compare him to Mr. Crouch! I can't see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?" Percy continued.

"Yes, I was asking Ludo about that. He says Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now -- though I must say, if it was someone in my department, I'd be worried..." Mr. Weasley frowned.

"Oh Bertha's hopeless, all right. I hear she's been shunted from department to department for years, much more trouble than she's worth... but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest, she worked in our department at one time, you know, and I think Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her -- but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However," He took another sip of wine, "we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup." He cleared his throat loudly and cast his gaze down the table where the four of them were sitting.

"You know the one I'm talking about, Father. The top-secret one."

Ron just rolled his eyes, muttering, "He's been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons."

Amisty covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing, her ears picking up an argument in the middle of the table between Mrs. Weasley and Bill.

"...with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?" Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," Bill explained, patient as ever.

"And your hair's getting silly, dear. I wish you'd let me give it a trim..." She continued as if he hadn't had said anything.

"I like it. You're so old-fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's..." Ginny piped up.

And then there were Fred, George, and Charlie, all talking about the upcoming World Cup.

"It's got to be Ireland. They flattened Peru in the semifinals," Charlie was saying through his potatoes.

"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," Fred pointed out.

"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven. I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was," Charlie shook his head.

"What happened?" Harry asked brightly, leaning forward in his seat eagerly.

"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten. Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg," Charlie replied bitterly.

Dinner continued, Mr. Weasley conjuring candles to brighten the darkness as they ate strawberry ice cream, and the air was so fresh and warm Amisty felt as if she could fall asleep right there.

Ron leaned over to Harry, his voice quiet. "So -- have you heard from Sirius lately?"

Hermione and Amisty pretended to be engaged in a quiet conversation, their hearing focused on the boys.