We followed the lantern-lit trail through the woods to the field with Lucius and Narcissa in the lead. Draco still held my arm, so tight in fact that I could tell his excitement had made him totally forget about the accident with the tree.
Thousands of other people around us gave loud shouts, bursts of laughter, and rounds of songs. The excitement around us was so contagious that I couldn't help myself from talking with Draco about what could happen during the match – even though I don't even know the teams.
It took twenty minutes to get through the woods before we finally emerged on the other side in the shadow of the biggest stadium I had ever been.
"Amazing," I said along with Draco's enthusiastic nod.
"The Ministry has been working on this all year with a task force of five hundred," Lucius said, leading the way to the nearest entrance. "The Repelling Charms are on every square inch. Every time a Mudblood comes near here, they'll remember that they scheduled urgent appointments and leave immediately."
I really wish he would stop saying that horrid word, I thought to myself with a shake of my head. But, the Dark Lord's daughter wouldn't be telling him not to use it... I may have to say it, myself, eventually – ugh!
We went all the way to the top box and edged along the second row to the four empty seats at the end.
"... ah, and here's Lucius!" I heard someone say.
I looked up to see the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. He seemed to have been deep in conversation with Harry Potter.
Harry had turned around at the sound of Lucius's name... well, so had the whole Weasley family and Hermione Granger. They weren't surprised to see me with the Malfoys, though Hermione gave me a small smile, Harry a small nod – he'd warmed up to me at the end of the previous school year, whereas for Ron it went... fairly slowly. Fred and George gave me cheeky grins almost as big as Becky's normally was.
"Ah, Fudge," Lucius said, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco? Perhaps his friend, Melody?"
"How do you do, how do you do? Nice to see you again, Melody," Fudge said, smiling and bowing to Lucius. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk – Obalonsk – Mr. – well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else – you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"
It was a tense moment between Arthur and Lucius. Last time I had ever seen them face-to-face, we were in Flourish and Blotts just before our second year at Hogwarts.
"Good lord, Arthur," Lucius said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"
The Minister, who surprisingly hadn't been 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," Arthur said, straining a smile for the Minister's sake.
Boy, how can the Minister not feel all the tense hate between the two? I'm simply burning in it! I thought, staring awkwardly at my feet.
We continued down the line to our seats. I sat on the end next to Draco, and on his other side sat his mom.
In the next moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box. "Everyone ready?" he asked excitedly. "Minister – ready to go?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo," the Minister said comfortably.
Ludo whipped his wand out, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" to speak over the roar of the crowd like a microphone.
"There's a good spell," Draco muttered to me.
"Becky can beat that volume with her own voice," I sniggered, to which Draco chuckled in return.
"Ladies and gentlemen... welcome!" Ludo said over the crowd's excited screaming and clapping. "Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup! And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce... the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"
A hundred women glided out onto the field... very beautiful women at that. I found myself glancing at Draco and Lucius, who were instantly captivated by them. Narcissa and I traded looks and burst into laughter. These creatures had to be veela, women who dazed the thoughts of men and made them want to do impressive things to get their attention.
"Good thing they have us with them to make sure they don't do something stupid," I muttered softly to her. She nodded with a big smile.
No wonder Draco is on Bulgaria's side – unless he doesn't know the mascots are veela, I thought as the music began to play and the veela started dancing. I watched Draco closely as his expression became blissfully happy. Well, wait until they stop and then he'll be devastated along with every other guy in this stadium.
When the veela started dancing faster, I could hear the minds of every single man in the stadium...... What can I do to make them notice me? Jumping from the box into the stadium sounds like a good idea... but is it enough? "Wow..." I mumbled, "How stupid." Draco started to stand, so I grabbed the back of his robes and sat him right back down. The music stopped and Draco broke out of his trance.
Angry shouts filled the stadium as the veela stopped and went to line up along one side of the field, and they were especially loud coming from Draco. I found myself plugging my ears as tight as possible with a wince.
"Come on! Let them dance a little m — ow!" Draco turned to glare at me after I had harshly pinched his arm. Somehow, upon looking at me, his expression had softened considerably from anger to calm. "What was that for?"
I smirked, "Need I remind you that we're here for Quidditch, not veela?"
"And now," Ludo roared, returning our attention back to the Quidditch pitch, "kindly put your wands in the air... for the Irish National Team Mascots!"
Next, what looked to be a green-and-gold comet came zooming in. It circled around the entire stadium and then split into two comets, each heading toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced across the field, connecting the two comets together. The whole crowd oooohed and aaaaahed at the display. The rainbow faded and the two comets flew to merge together, forming a great shimmering shamrock which soared over the stands. Gold coins fell down everywhere like golden rain.
Draco bent down and picked up a bunch of the gold. "Look, enough for each of us to get anything we want from Hogsmeade this year."
But why would they just give us free gold? I wondered to myself. My question was confirmed a second later. In the shamrock were thousands of leprechauns, tiny little bearded men with red vests that each carried a minute lamp of gold or green.
"Draco, it's leprechaun gold. It'll just disappear later," I whispered to him as the crowd gave tumultuous applause. He dropped it all back to the floor again.
"Of course...... at least the veela give you better entertainment."
I snorted, "True. Entertainment for the men, at least. For the women, the entertainment is the men in the stands being entertained by the veela."
The shamrock dissolved, and the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela. They settled themselves down, cross-legged, to watch the match.
Draco's "Oh hi," distracted me, and I turned to see Vincent and Greg sitting down next to him. I had to hold back a chuckle as I realized 'Krum' was written in red across Vincent's forehead. Meanwhile, Draco's parents moved to the row behind us to sit with Vincent and Greg's fathers.
The boys said their excited hellos as I grinned, "Hey! Glad you could join us just in time!"
Ludo spoke again, regaining all our attention. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome – the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you – Dimitrov!"
A scarlet-clad figure zoomed so fast across the field on its broomstick I almost didn't see it, and all the Bulgarian supporters applauded wildly. I even applauded.
"Ivanova!"
A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.
"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand – Krum!"
Draco gripped my arm in excitement as the distant figure of Viktor Krum zoomed across the field. "Look! Look! It's him! It's him!"
I couldn't help my smile as I looked at him, his eyes starstruck and glued to the field. I have never seen Draco look so excited before. It's almost contagious.
"And now, please greet – the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting – Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand – Lynch!"
Seven green blurs swept onto the field as he named them, flying faster than speeding bullets.
"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"
A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but for his mustache, wore robes of pure gold to match the stadium. He strode out onto the field with a silver whistle protruding from under his mustache, a large wooden crate under one arm, and his broomstick in the other. Hassan mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open, four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and I saw a brief glimpse of the Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast of his whistle, Hassan shot into the air after the balls.
My eyebrows rose, "They're starting already?" That was fast.
"Theeeeeeeey're off!" Ludo shouted. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"
The game went by with those passes being so quick and precise that I just about got tired of hearing all the different names of players suddenly having the Quaffle in their possession. I dropped my face into my hands because the crowd wasn't helping either, constantly booing or cheering and never being quiet enough for even a few seconds. It was to that point that I heard the crowd considerably more than the consistent oohs and ahhs coming from Draco that I had so looked forward to.
"Troy scores!" Ludo roared. "Ten zero to Ireland!"
"I don't even remember who's on what team!" I shouted out to Draco, rubbing my head with one hand irritably as I looked down at my lap. "How can you tell what's going on? It's all so loud!"
He put one hand on my free one and squeezed it gently. I looked at it in surprise and was going to say something to him, but when I looked at his face I realized he hadn't even taken his eyes off of the game. Despite the pink tinge in his cheeks, his gaze was glued to the vast arena.
I looked back at the game, decidedly allowing him my hand for reasons of comfort. The Chasers from the Ireland Team were so good that they hardly gave any chances for the Bulgarians to steal the Quaffle. Ireland was definitely going to win at the rate of which they kept scoring the ball... but the Bulgarian Seeker, Viktor Krum, was as Draco said – the best Seeker in the world. His eyes darted all over the place, his concentration on what was going on never wavering.
I really can't tell what's going on in the scoring except from what I hear out of Ludo's mouth. Everyone is moving so fast.
The game started moving faster, and became more brutal as time passed. The Bulgarian Beaters were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and tried to prevent them from catching the Quaffle; twice being forced to scatter. Then suddenly – I don't know how – Bulgaria scored their first goal.
The veela started to dance in celebration. When the veela stopped, Bulgaria was in possession of the Quaffle again.
"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova – oh I say!" Ludo said.
All the wizards in the stadium gasped as the Seekers plummeted through the center of the Chasers so fast it was like they were falling from thousands of feet. Draco followed their descent with his eyes with bated breath, squinting as though looking for the Snitch himself.
At the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. The Irish Seeker, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard all across the stadium. There was a huge groan from the Irish supporters.
Viktor Krum had only made the other Seeker think he'd spotted it. How underhanded, how... Slytherin-like.
"It's time-out as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!" Ludo yelled out.
Aidan Lynch got to his feet to loud cheers from Ireland's supporters, mounted his broom, and kicked back off into the air. When Hassan blew the whistle again, the Chasers moved into action immediately.
After I suppose about fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland pulled ahead by ten more goals. Draco was starting to lose faith as we both looked at the leaderboard where it said that Ireland was ahead by one hundred and thirty points to ten. The game started getting even dirtier than that, a feat I hadn't thought possible.
An Irish player shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, when the Bulgarian player flew out to meet her. Whatever happened, I didn't catch it, but there was a scream of rage from the Irish crowd and Hassan's long, shrill whistle blast screamed that it had been a foul.
"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbling – excessive use of elbows!" Ludo informed us. "And – yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"
The leprechauns had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled and now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!" The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.
I laughed joyfully as the referee, Hassan Mostafa, landed right in front of the dancing veela and acted very oddly. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.
"Now, we can't have that!" Ludo said, sounding highly amused himself. "Somebody slap the referee!"
A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Hassan hard in the shins. He seemed to come to himself and started shouting at the veela – I can feel his angry embarrassment from all the way up here!
"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots! Now there's something we haven't seen before.... Oh this could turn nasty..."
And it most certainly did: The Bulgarian Beaters landed on either side of Hassan Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesturing toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE."
"I'd like to punch the bloody hell out of those leprechauns," Draco said threateningly. I, however, wasn't really listening to him. I watched in fascination as they argued.
Hassan didn't look impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments and was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get back into the game. When they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.
"Two penalties for Ireland!" Ludo shouted, and the Bulgarian supporters howled with anger – especially Draco. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms... yes... there they go... and Troy takes the Quaffle..."
The match now reached the highest level of ferocity anyone could ask for. The Beaters on both sides acted without mercy, the Bulgarian Beaters making a point not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they violently swung them through the air. A Bulgarian Chaser shot straight at an Irish Chaser holding the Quaffle, and nearly knocked her clean off her broom.
"Foul!" the Irish supporters shrieked as one, all standing up.
"Foul!" Ludo echoed. "Dimitrov skins Moran – deliberately flying to collide there – and it's got to be another penalty – yes, there's the whistle!"
The leprechauns rose into the air again, and now formed a giant hand, making a very rude sign at the veela across the field. The veela lost control and, instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what looked to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns.
You don't get to see an all-out mascot battle every day, I thought positively to myself.
Ministry wizards flooded onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns with very little success. However, their battle was nothing compared to that of the actual match.
The Quaffle changed hands so quickly I didn't know how Ludo even kept up.
"Levski – Dimitrov – Moran – Troy – Mullet – Ivanova – Moran again – Moran – Moran scores!"
The cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the furious shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians.
An Irish Beater swung heavily at a passing Bludger and hit it as hard as possible toward Viktor Krum, who didn't duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face. As the Bulgarian supporters groaned, I noticed his nose bleed freely and was most likely broken. However, Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle because he had become distracted by the veela throwing a handful of fire at him, setting his broom tail alight.
The Irish Seeker suddenly went into a dive.
"No!" Draco shrieked, his grip on my hand tightening.
About half of the crowd seemed to notice this as well. Irish supporters rose, cheering Aidan Lynch on. Viktor Krum was on his tail, though, drawing level with Aidan as they both hurtled to the ground once more.
For the second time, Aidan hit the ground again with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.
Viktor had caught the snitch. He rose gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.
The scoreboard flashed BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170
The Ireland supporters, slow to realize what had just happened, grew louder and louder and soon erupted into screams of delight.
Draco's hand released mine as he slumped into his seat, a bitter look on his face.
"Well," I said, "Viktor Krum most certainly is the best seeker in the world. Aidan Lynch didn't know what hit him... twice at that!"
He seemed to feel a little happier about that fact.
"Ireland wins!" Ludo shouted, obviously just as taken aback by the sudden end of the match as everyone else. "Krum gets the snitch – but Ireland wins – good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"
"Well? What did you think?" Draco asked, gesturing around the stadium.
"Too much going on at one time," I admitted. He laughed. "And I'd bet that Becky would think the exact same thing."
"Vell, ve fought bravely," I heard a gloomy voice say. When I looked to see who said it, I saw the Bulgarian Minister of Magic regrettably shaking his head.
Cornelius Fudge was outraged, "You can speak English! And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"
Draco and I glanced at each other in unison before bursting into fits of laughter as the Bulgarian Minister said with a shrug, "Vell, it vos very funny."
Ludo roared, "And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!"
The Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the blinding white light of the vast golden cup. The two panting wizards who carried it handed it to Cornelius Fudge, who was still disgruntled about learning he'd been trying to use sign language with the Bulgarian Minister all day for no good reason.
"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers – Bulgaria!" Ludo said.
Up the stairs into the Top Box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below applauded for them appreciatively.
One by one, they filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Ludo called out all their names as they came in. Viktor Krum was last and looked like a real mess, still clutching the Snitch. When Ludo called his name, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.
"Don't the mediwizards know how to clean his nose up?" I asked Draco in a murmur.
"Doesn't trust the mediwizards ever since they tried to heal a broken arm he got from a Bludger. They only made it worse, breaking more bones – he hasn't trusted them ever since." Draco said. "He let it heal normally after that, took months but he wouldn't let anyone get near him."
I raised an eyebrow at him, "Sounds like a similar thing that happened our second year."
Draco snorted with laughter. "Except that Lockhart took Potter's bones completely out of his arm. He had to get skelegrow from Madam Pomfrey."
"He was such an idiot with magic, too," I said with a disgusted look. "I could understand not trusting one specific mediwizard after that, but not all mediwizards."
Draco shrugged, "Maybe he'll let you." He then proceeded to whisper something to Lucius.
I snorted at the idea. As if he is going to let a teenage witch do what a mediwizard should be trained to do.
The Irish team arrived. The Seeker, Aidan Lynch, had to be supported by two of his team members. The second crash apparently dazed him, his eyes looking strangely unfocused, but he grinned as two other teammates lifted the Cup into the air. The crowd below thundered its approval.
Draco poked me — I didn't even notice him stand up — and right behind him was Viktor Krum.
"Wha –?"
"I told him about last year when you fixed Marcus's nose up. He's agreed to let you fix his nose."
"Why?"
He lightly punched my arm playfully as if he thought I was kidding with my reaction. "Krum goes to Durmstrang, and my father is close friends with their headmaster. He trusts his judgment."
I glanced to the side where Lucius stood, and he nodded his approval to me.
"Okay," I said slowly, standing up. I took my wand out and pointed it at Viktor's nose. "Episkey!" he staggered, but didn't start shouting at me. That's progress, I thought as his nose had gone back into place. "Tergeo..." The blood cleared up.
He touched his nose and gave a surprising smile. After seeing the scowling on his posters, I certainly hadn't expected that.