Future Nostalgia / Harry Potter Fanfic

Tragedy at the Quidditch Cup

"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?"

Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How-how nice," said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes had turned to Hermione, who went slightly pink but stared determinedly back at him. Nothing Estella hated more was the blood prejudice that typically came with being a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. She and the Weasleys were labeled as blood traitors, but Estella was more acceptable since she'd come from a wealthier family and was the daughter of two extremely powerful wizards. Under the gaze of the Minister of Magic, Mr. Malfoy didn't dare say anything. He nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and continued down the line to his seats. Draco shot Harry, Ron, Estella, and Hermione one contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father.

"Slimy gits," Ron muttered as he, Estella, Harry, and Hermione turned to face the field again. The next moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box.

"Everybody ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister-ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said, "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of the sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his own voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthem to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message and now showed Bulgaria: 0, Ireland: 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"Veela!" Bagman announced.

"What are veel-?" Harry was cut off.

But a hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field, and some of the most beautiful women Estella had seen appeared in the stadium. Estella glanced at Harry, who was already looking at her.

"What are veela?" he whispered.

Estella couldn't prevent the smile that spread to her face. Beautiful "women" in front of him, and his eyes were on her. "Oh, they're semi-magical beings. Quite beautiful women, with long blonde hair, but can turn into these bird-type creatures with sharp faces and scaly wings," Estella said.

"Oh, quite misleading then, huh?" Harry asked. He reached down and took her hand into his, careful to shield it from those behind him.

"Harry?" Estella said.

"Es?" he replied.

"Why aren't you looking at them? They're supposed to be quite attractive to anyone who's attracted to that gender."

Harry shrugged, glancing at the field and then back at her, "Es, you're my favorite person to look at."

Estella tilted her head, "Why are you looking at me like that?" His eyes never left her as they dropped down before connecting back with hers.

Harry hesitated, "Are you sure you're not part veela?"

Estella couldn't fight the grin that spread to her face, "Harry-"