"Blimey, Dad!" Ron exclaimed as the group began their ascent up the many stairs housed within the massive stadium of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup, his eyes wandering up the seemingly-endless space over rows and rows of spectator boxes to the top of the arena. "How far up are we?"
"Well, put it this way." a smug voice drawled from behind them, causing Clary to turn around and see the smirking face of Lucius Malfoy on the landing below them, Draco following only mere steps behind his father. "If it rains, you'll be the first to know."
"Father and I are in the Minister's Box." Draco gloated proudly, taking a few steps towards the Weasley clan and their friends, and Clary rolled her eyes as she watched the younger boy. "By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge, himself!"
"Don't boast, Draco." Lucius chided, holding his son back with his walking stick. "There's no need with these people."
Clary rolled her eyes once again, turning around and continuing her trek up the stairs, having heard quite enough from the Malfoy family for one evening. "Why does he even care?" she muttered to Vasantha, Newt, and Cedric, who trailed along not far behind the frustrated redhead.
"I pity them." Vasantha said simply as they walked, finally nearing the top of the stadium.
"You what?" Newt asked in disbelief. "Why in the name of Merlin would you ever pity the Malfoys?"
The girl shrugged in response. "Just look at them. Clearly they're insecure about their lives since they have to make it known to everyone around them just how much they have that everyone else doesn't. And they've never known what it's like to love something. One day their money could run out, and what would they be left with? So yes, Newt, I pity them."
"Well said." Cedric agreed as they reached the top, and Clary's breath caught in her throat as she took in the view of the largest Quidditch pitch she had ever laid eyes on.
From floor to ceiling, the stands were packed with Quidditch fans from every corner of the world, decked out in both the red and black colors of the Bulgarian team and the green and white of the Irish. Lights twinkled around the stadium, illuminating the darkness of the night sky in a bright white glow. A diehard Quidditch fan and lover of the sport for as long as the girl could remember, the view was everything she could've ever dreamed of.
"Amazing, isn't it?" her father asked with a proud grin as he and Amos brought up the rear of the group, patting his eldest daughter on the shoulder. "I told you these seats would be worth waiting for!"
"Alright, so who's going to win tonight?" Amos asked the group excitedly, his attention turning towards where all the children were gathered.
"Bulgaria." Clary informed the man at the same time Cedric said "Ireland," and the two looked at each other, each wearing a horrified expression as they looked at the other."
"It's going to be Bulgaria." Clary assured the boy. "Have you seen Viktor Krum? He's unstoppable."
"Oh, but that's only if the rest of the team can keep up." Cedric reminded her. "Krum could catch the Snitch, but Bulgaria might still lose."
"Actually, we're counting on that." George interjected.
"Like that'll happen." she said, shaking her head.
"Ireland is definitely coming home with the Cup tonight." Cedric said firmly, and Clary crossed her arms over her chest, a devilish smirk crossing her features.
"Okay, then," she said. "let's make this interesting, shall we? If Bulgaria wins, you can't give me detention for an entire month."
Cedric thought it over for a moment. "I'll take that bet. And if Ireland wins?"
Clary shrugged. "Not going to happen. What do you want?"
Cedric looked around, noticing that everyone else had stopped paying attention to the two bickering teenagers and were instead watching where the Irish team began to fly in on their brooms, causing the stands to erupt in deafening cheers.
"If I win," he called to her, just loud enough so the two could hear over the sound of the crowd. "then you have to kiss me."
"I'm sorry, what?" Clary asked, her jaw dropping for a moment before she once again regained her composure and raised her chin back up, her confident demeanor finally returning. "Fine." she said, holding out her hand for him to shake. "If you win, then I'll... okay whatever, just shake on it."
Cedric held his hand out to Clary, shaking hers firmly with a confident grin as the loud banging of drums could be heard in the distance, and the Bulgarian team took to the pitch on their brooms, the crowd going wild as Viktor Krum came into view, soaring around the stadium and doing flips on his Firebolt.
"Krum!" Fred and George exclaimed in excitement, and Clary looked back at Cedric with a satisfied smile.
"I told you." she said smugly. "He's the man."
"We'll see who's right in the end." Cedric shot back, equally as smug as the Weasley girl, and she shook her head.
"Yes we will."
Clary's smug smile refused to falter as Ireland scored their first seven goals, no matter how many looks she got from Cedric as the Irish gleefully cheered on their home team. She simply kept assuring the boy that the match was still young, and as a Seeker he should remember that the Golden Snitch was worth one hundred and fifty points, which was more than double the measly seventy points already earned by the Irish National Team.
"How did Bulgaria even qualify?" Newt asked Clary, Cedric, and Vasantha, causing Clary to roll her eyes as Cedric snickered. "They haven't even touched the Quaffle!"
"Wait!" Clary exclaimed, pointing to the middle of the pitch where Bulgarian Chaser Clara Ivanova intercepted the Quaffle from Irish Chaser Moran, and rocketed forward towards the Irish goalposts.
Clary watched with baited breath as Ivanova soared towards the goal, dodging Bludgers sent from every direction by Connolly and Quigley of Ireland, and threw the Quaffle at the right hoop, narrowly missing the hands of Barry Ryan and flying through the goal with a loud ring that reverberated through the stands as the Bulgarian fans began to cheer.
"Now we're in this!" Clary called back to her friends. "Go Bulgaria!"
"Krum's found it!" Fred exclaimed, pulling Clary's attention to where Viktor Krum was speeding lower and lower, focused intently on the space in front of him.
Aidan Lynch quickly caught notice of Krum's movements, speeding after the opposing Seeker to the ground below in search of the Golden Snitch. However, moments before reaching the ground, Krum soared back upwards, though Aidan Lynch couldn't react quickly enough before slamming into the grassy earth.
"Whoa!" Fred and George exclaimed as the crowd winced at Lynch laying dazed on the ground below while Krum had resumed searching for the Snitch, as if nothing had happened.
"He did the Wronski Feint!" Ron shouted, jumping up and down. "He actually did the Wronski Feint!"
"Looks like Ireland's down a Seeker." Clary said nonchalantly to Cedric. "That might be important."
"He'll be back." Cedric said firmly. "Besides, the way things are going, they won't even need him."
Clary's smug smile remained strong even after mediwizards released Aidan Lynch back into the game minutes later. It didn't so much as falter when Quigley sent a Bludger in Krum's direction, breaking the boy's nose with a sickening crunch that could even be heard from the top row of the stadium, or the glowing sign that read the score of 130-10 with Ireland in the lead. Krum would still be able to catch the Snitch in time, and she'd have the freedom to prank Cedric as much as she liked without fear of punishment.
"Oh, look." Cedric said nonchalantly as Troy scored another goal for Ireland, putting the score at 170-10. "Correct me if I'm wrong but I believe that's a score difference of one hundred and sixty points, isn't it?"
"Shut up," Clary said, elbowing him in the side. "It's going to be fine."
"Yes, you're right." Cedric agreed. "It is going to be fine."
Clary's smile only began to falter when Viktor Krum began racing for the Golden Snitch, up into the air this time rather than going for another Wronski Feint. While she had been waiting the entire match for Krum to find the Snitch, she knew that if he caught it now, Ireland would still win the match, and the Cup would be theirs.
"What's he doing?" Vasantha asked as he reached forward, capturing the tiny golden ball in his outstretched hand, the other hand holding onto his nose, which was still gushing blood from his unfortunate run-in with the Bludger.
"He's ending it on his own terms." Newt said in disbelief as the crowd erupted into madness.
Bulgarian fans were both cheering for Krum and booing his actions while the Irish fans cheered for their Quidditch World Cup victory. Fred and George were over the moon, cheering while Ron stared shellshocked at the pitch, as if unwilling to believe what he had witnessed had actually happened.
"We're rich!" Fred exclaimed to George, and Clary looked up at Cedric in horror as the implications of their bet resurfaced in her mind.
"I told you." Cedric said nonchalantly. "We'll see who's right in the end."
"With a final score of 170-160, Ireland wins the 422nd Quidditch World Cup!"