▎AMOUR ▎
CHAPTER FOUR ━━ The world cup
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THEY HAD ARRIVED AT THE TOP BOX. The first row was already filled with the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and Lyra. There was also a tiny little elf sitting in the box, who Harry had mistaken for Lyra's old house elf Dobby. "Did Sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf. Its voice sounded higher making Lyra assume it is a girl.
"Sorry," Harry told the elf, "I just thought that you were someone I knew."
"My name is Winky, sir — and you, sir-" Her eyes widened. "You surely are Harry Potter!" he confirmed this and the two got in a conversation about Dobby. "He is wanting paying for his work, sir," Winky whispered.
"Paying," said Harry blankly, "Well — why shouldn't he be paid?" Winky looked horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so her face was half-hidden again.
"House-elves don't get payed, Harry." Lyra told him, "They serve a family for the rest of their lives, Dobby got born in it."
"Lyra Malfoy is right," said Winky. Now Lyra recognised her, it had been years since she had seen Crouch his little elf. "No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."
"Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun," said Harry.
"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter," Winky spoke firmly. Hermione was listening, shocked of the poor treatment of the elf.
"Wait, where's Crouch?" asked Lyra.
"Master wants me to save him a seat, he is very busy."
"Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Lyra Malfoy, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf." She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again. Lyra turned back to the others.
"So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered.
"Weird things, aren't they?" Harry commented on how Dobby looked weirder.
"C'mon, he wasn't. If you grew up with him being around you wouldn't think that." The box gradually filled around them over the next half hour. When Cornelius Fudge arrived, Percy bowed so low his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and remained in his seat. He threw jealous looks at Harry, whom Fudge greeted like an old friend.
"Ah Lyra Malfoy. It's nice seeing you again after all these years." Both outstretched their arms and they shook hands. "Though our first meeting wasn't positive, I'm happy to see you again." To say it Wasn't positive would be an understatement, Lyra threw up on him. It wasn't her fault, her father knew she got sick from apparating.
"Oh, I saw your family on the way here. Your father said you'd be here and I thought- Ah, here they are! Lucius!" Lyra froze. She turned to see her family making their way through the second row to the empty seats right behind them. Her mother smiled at her while her brother and father wore the same stony expression.
Lucius' eyes looked over to his daughter for a moment before they went straight to Fudge. His bright business-smile spread over his face. "Ah, Fudge," he said, reaching out to shake the Minister's hand. "How are you? I see you've reunited with my daughter, Lyra." His cold gaze landed on her again.
"I did, yes. A very nice girl, isn't she Lucius? And keeping such good company, too. I see your influence." Lyra tried hard not to laugh when her father looked as if he heard that wrong.
"Yes, we're very proud of her," her father replied. She couldn't trace any sign of untruthfulness in his voice, which was quite unsettling. "Also a really good Quidditch player. Chaser on the Gryffindor team, if I'm correct."
"Yep." Lyra nodded.
"And my son Draco, I don't think you've met yet, also plays on his team. He's their seeker."
Lyra turned to Ginny and whispered, "Would've been something to brag about if he doesn't continuously loose to Harry." She knew Draco heard that when he glared at her. Fudge started introducing them to everyone who sat in the top box.
"And let's see who else — you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?" It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Lucius looked at each other. Ginny had told Lyra when she was getting her robes fitted at Twilfitt and Tattings, a fight occurred at Florish and Blotts two years ago.
Her father's eyes swept over Mr Weasley, and then up and down the row. "Good lord, Arthur. What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"
Lyra wanted to tell him to shut up but Fudge, who wasn't listening, had turned his attention back to them. He explained how her father had given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's. "How — how nice," said Mr Weasley, straining a smile.
Lucius's eyes had turned to Hermione, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him. Lyra knew that, with Fudge being present, he wouldn't say something about her blood status.
"Now, will you please come and sit with us, Lyra?" His voice sounded nicer than he had talked to her in years.
"Oh, why don't you let her sit with her friends, Lucius," her mother cut in. "What kind of thirteen-year-old girl would preferably sit with her parents than her friends? Mr Fudge," she continued, stretching out her hand to shake that of the Minister. "It's nice meeting you."
"How you do, how you do?"
Ginny turned to Lyra. "A two faced git, your father is," she hissed.
"I know, yet knowing he's boiling with anger inside gives me enough satisfaction."
Ludo Bagman charged into the box. "Everyone ready? Minister — ready to go?" he asked Fudge.
"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably. Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, casted a Sonorus charm then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoing over them.
"Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!" The spectators screamed and clapped. "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.
"I wonder what they've brought," wondered Mr. Weasley and leaned forward in his seat. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them on his robes, "Veela!"
"What are veel — ?" Harry began to say. He stopped talking when a group of what seemed to be a hundred of the most beautiful women Lyra had ever seen glided out onto the field.
"They're semi-magical humanoids, said to have seducing powers," Lyra explained. She looked at them which such amazement, that she forgot about her surroundings. Only focusing on their dancing.
Lyra's mind had gone completely blank. All that mattered was that she kept watching the veela.
And as they danced faster and faster, uncultivated thoughts started going through her mind. She wanted to have a closer look at them, she leaned forward until a hand on her wrist made her stop. "Lyra, what are you doing?" said Ginny's voice, but it sounded like an echo. The music stopped. Lyra saw that Harry was also standing.
Hermione raised an eyebrow at her before looking away.
Angry yells were filling the stadium. The crowd didn't want the veela to go. Lyra was totally with them, meanwhile Ron absentmindedly shredded the shamrocks on his hat. Mr Weasley, smiling slightly, leaned over to Ron and tugged the hat out of his hands. "You'll be wanting that once Ireland have had their say."
"Huh?"
"And now," roared Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air... for the Irish National Team Mascots!" Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium.
"Excellent!" yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and gold coins rained from it.
"Ron, those aren't real," Lyra told him, "They'll disappear in a couple of hours."
Ron, looking a bit disappointed sat down. When the Leprechauns had settled in their places on the pitch, Bagman continued, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograv!" The players were zooming out onto the field as their names were called, and the crowd cheered. "Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand - Krum!"
"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron who was following him with his Omnioculars. Krum zoomed in the air. He was quite stiff and Lyra doubted he could glide the way she could.
"And now, please greet — the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting — Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand — Lynch!"
As the players each sped onto the field, Lyra tried to zoom in on each of them. Trying to take in their faces with the Omnioculars her mother had once brought. She knew most of the players, and focused more on Lynch.
After the referee had entered the field and released the balls into the air, he opened the match with a loud blast of his whistle. "Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. The players were off at a spectacular speed. The pace of the match was faster than anything Lyra had ever seen before, even in top matches of the League.
Soon, as Lyra expected, the Irish scored. "TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman. The stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!" The Leprechauns were celebrating on their side of the pitch, forming a glittering shamrock up in the air.
"What?" Harry yelled, looking wildly around through his Omnioculars. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!"
"At least put them at normal speed!" shouted Lyra, and went back to celebrate the goal while Troy did a lap of honor around the field. Across the field, the veela were watching them morosely. You could honestly see that the Irish Chasers were excellent. They worked as a seamless team, all their movements well coordinated and it felt as if they read each other's minds when positioning themselves.
And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more. It brought their lead to thirty-zero, causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from their supporters. The Bulgarian beaters started whacking bludgers at the Irish chasers. Soon after, Ivanova scored and the Veela started dancing in celebration.
Despite Bulgaria's best attempts at catching up, Ireland was soon hopelessly in the lead, enough for the enraged Veela to attempt influencing the match through seducing the referee. Lyra could only focus on the two seekers this time. Although she didn't like to admit it, Krum was a more skilled than Lynch. He fooled him into making a hard crash when he made an impressive Wronskei Feint.
"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie reassured his sister, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course. . . Great feint, could've gone much worse."
When Krum ended up catching the Snitch, it was not enough to win Bulgaria the cup. Ireland had already been leading with one hundred and sixty points, so there was no hope for Krum to beat that. "Vell, ve fought bravely," began a gloomy voice behind them. Lyra looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.
"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"
Lyra tried very hard not to laugh. "Vell, it vos very funny." The awarding was carried out by Fudge in the top box, right in front them. As the Irish Team received the cup, the crowd erupted into cheers. Lyra joined in, swept away by the atmosphere of pure elation. But that feeling quickly faded away, when she felt a big hand on her shoulder, and turned to face her father.
"Say goodbye to your friends," he ordered in a tight voice, just loud enough for Lyra to hear over the noise. "You are leaving with your mother and brother."
"My stuff, it's in the tent!" Lyra argued.
"The Weasley can give it to you." he objected, throwing a nasty look at Ginny. "Now!"
Lyra sighed and went to Ginny. "I have to leave," she said, pulling her into a hug. "Can you send me my stuff?" Lyra felt Ginny nod and muttered a, "See you." She squeezed her back tightly, making sure she knew how she didn't want her to leave. Lyra smiled sadly at her as she let go, turning to pull Hermione, Harry and Ron into a hug too.
"It's only a week before term starts," Ginny reminded her when Lyra let go off Ron. "You'll be back with us in no time."
"Still too long." She then shook the hand of every Weasley, to annoy her father even more, before meeting her brother and mother at the stairway.
"Why do we have to leave?" she demanded angrily. "The match has barely ended, and he's sticking around for the celebrations as well, why do I have to leave?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "He doesn't want you fooling around with blood traitors of course," he said, looking at her disapprovingly.
"Oh shut up, you're just jealous since I'm able to make actual friends."
"Lyra!" her mum looked at her sternly.
"You know it's true," spit Lyra, crossing her arms.
"Even if you think that's true you don't talk to your brother like that."
Draco scoffed at his mother's remark. "As if I would call a blood traitor my sister." Narcissa looked upset when her son said that. Lyra knew that her mother wanted her children to be nice each other again, like they used to.
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"Mum told us we couldn't leave the room Draco," Lyra whispered, following him into the forest.
"Then why did you follow me?" he snarled.
"Because there's something going on and I want to know what," Lyra replied simply.
"Don't you see? They're attacking those muggles," he said gleefully.
"Who?"
"I don't know though, seem to be death eaters." Lyra knew what those were, followers of the Dark Lord.
Then, the two heard someone say, "Tripped over a tree root," she recognised it to be Ron.
Draco seemed to know as well as he drawled, "Well, with feet that size, hard not to." The trio turned their heads to the Malfoy siblings. Ron told Draco to do something Lyra knew he wouldn't dare say in front of Mrs Weasley.
"Language Weasley," tutted Draco, "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?" He asked, nodding at Hermione. At the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them.
"She has a name," said Lyra, glaring at him, "but he's right, it's not safe for any of us. They're attacking the landowners."
Draco let out a sneering laugh. "You're being delusional Lyra, we have nothing to worry about. It's that thing that should be worried." He turned his head at Hermione, "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around. . .they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."
"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.
"Have it your way then, Potter." Draco shrugged, smiling maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."
"You, watch your mouth!" Ron shouted.
"Never mind, Ron," sighed Hermione.
Lyra didn't think that. "No, he's right. He needs to watch his mouth!" Hermione had seized Ron's arm to prevent him from getting any closer to Draco. There came a bang from the other side of the trees, louder than anything they had heard. Several people nearby screamed.
Draco chuckled softly. "Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide?" He looked at Ron. "What's he up to — trying to rescue the Muggles?"
"Where're your parents?" asked Harry, who seemed to get angrier by the minute. "Out there wearing masks, are they?" Draco turned his face to Harry, still smiling.
"Well. . .if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"
Lyra grabbed her brothers arm. "I think that you've talked enough."
"Don't touch me," Draco bit angrily, glaring at her as if she were dirt. "I don't want people like you ruining my clothes." As if I wasn't wearing his hand me downs. . .
"Slimy git." Ron growled.
"Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Draco, "let's go find the others."
"Keep that big bushy head down Granger," he sneered.
"Come on," Hermione repeated, gave Lyra an apologetic look and the trio left.
"How long do you think she'll stay alive? I bet on five galleons that she'll die in two minutes, would be quite the show," Draco spat.
"There's something wrong with you."
"No, there's something wrong with you. Associating yourself with the wrong people. You'll end up like them if you don't look out." He shook his head when the muggles started screaming again.
"You're sick, Draco."
"You're the one to talk, I saw how you acted around those veela. Is there something you wish to tell me?" Lyra shook her head before leaving him. She was worried about Hermione, Harry, Ron and Ginny too. She hadn't seen her. She really hoped her friend was okay.
But her brothers comment did stick with her. "Well...if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?" Draco knew something she didn't. What if her father knew this would happen? That being the reason why he told Lyra she should go. No, that was impossible. He didn't show to care for her in any way. But there was something her family was hiding from her, and Lyra would get to the bottom of it.
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AUTHORS NOTE
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Again a what longer chapter but I couldn't really shorten it, hope you enjoyed it :)))