Magic? || Years 1-5

Barty Crouch: Year 4/Summer

"I doubt it. He's desperate to export here," Mr. Crouch replied, taking the cup of tea Percy handed him.

"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" Mr. Bagman pointed out.

"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle. I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve -- but that was before carpets were banned, of course," Mr. Crouch sounded disgusted at the acts of his previous ancestors.

"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" Mr. Bagman asked lightly.

"Fairly. Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo," Mr. Crouch replied.

"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" Mr. Weasley smiled faintly.

Mr. Bagman looked shocked, "Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun... Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"

"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details -- " Mr. Crouch began.

"Oh details! They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts -- " Mr. Bagman went on.

"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know. Thank you for the tea, Weatherby," Mr. Crouch cut him off sharply, handing Percy back the cup of full tea.

"See you all later! You'll be up in the Top Box with me -- I'm commentating!" Mr. Bagman waved cheerfully as Mr. Crouch nodded, and they both Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad? What were they talking about?" Fred asked eagerly the second they were gone.

"You'll find out soon enough," Mr. Weasley smiled.

"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it. Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it," Percy cut in formally.

"Oh shut up, Weatherby," Fred snapped back.

-=+=-

Amisty ducked out of the tent a while after they had finished lunch, needing a bit of space. As she walked around she caught glimpses of Ministry wizards, gradually looking like they hated their jobs more and more.

"Amisty!" A familiar voice called out, still drawled, still entitled, but far more welcoming than it had been in years prior.

"Hi, Draco!" She felt her mouth quirk up into a grin as she spun around to see the platinum-haired boy.

He was wearing green, though nowhere near as severe as Seamus and Dean, and there was an excited glow in his silver eyes.

"Which team are you rooting for?" He asked, joining her side and they walked together behind the tents.

"Ireland, of course," Amisty grinned, her gaze resting purposefully on the green rosette on his robes. "I'm guessing you are, as well?"

"How could you have ever guessed?" He asked sarcastically.

"Draco Malfoy wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything that remotely resembled Gryffindor's colors," She shot back.

"I won't deny it," He shrugged.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Amisty let out a dramatic, prolonged groan and she stopped in her tracks, head knocked back with an expression of pain.

"What is it?" Draco asked almost frantically.

She looked over at him, still looking pained, "I have to wear Slytherin colors all of the game... These things can go on for weeks!"

"Oh, the horror. Your Gryffindor pride just destroyed over wearing the color green," Draco rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.