Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Altered Destiny ❯ The World Quiddich Cup ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

 

“Talking”

 

Thinking

 

§Scene Change§

 

â—ŠTelepathic Communicationâ—Š

 

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ϿAltered DestinyϾ

 

Chapter Two: Camping

 

They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards. One was holding a large golden watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill.

 

“Morning, Basil,” said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the wizard with the watch. Who threw it in a large box of used protkeys beside him.

 

“Hello there, Arthur, Amos, Sondra,” greeted Basil wearily. “Hang on, I'll find your campsites…Weasley…Weasely…” He consulted his parchment list.

 

“Please tell me that we have our own campsite,” begged Mitchell.

 

“Yes, we do,” replied Sondra.

 

“How does he know you,” asked Brittany. Sondra ignored her.

 

“Yeah, that's a good point,” began George.

 

“Where have you been going all those times,” finished Fred. Sondra ignored them as well, rummaging around in her backpack.

 

“About a quarter mile's walk over there, first field you come to. The site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Miss Fox, you're with the Weaselys. Diggory…second field… ask for Mr. Payne.”

 

“Thanks, Basil,” said Mr. Weasely. They set off across the deserted moor.

 

After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it you could just barely make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents. They said good-bye to the Diggorys (Mitchell did so happily, hoping never to see him again.) and approached the cottage door.

 

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. It was obvious that this was the only muggle for several acres.

 

“Morning!” called Mr. Weasely brightly.

 

“Morning,” replied the muggle.

 

“Would you be Mr. Roberts?”

 

“Aye, I would,” said Mr. Roberts. “And who're you?”

 

“Weasely… one tent, booked a few days ago?”

 

“Aye,” said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list on the door. “You've got a space by the wood there. Just one night?”

 

“That's it,” said Mr. Weasely, hardly containing his excitement.

 

“You'll be paying now, then,” asked Mr. Roberts.

 

“Ah… right…certainly…” Mr. Weasely said stumbling over the words. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him.

 

As they sorted things out, Sondra stepped forward cash in hand. “Here is what he owes you. He's still learning. Coming from America and all. Fox… one tent, booked a month ago, for one night. It should be right next to his. He'll pay for it. I would appreciate it though if you didn't tell him though.”

 

Mr. Roberts looked suspiciously at Mr. Weasely before nodding. Mr. Weasely finally returning with the correct bills gave them to Mr. Roberts. He rummaged around in a tin for some change. “Never been this crowded,” he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up…”

 

While Mr. Weasely chatted with Mr. Roberts, the others headed for the field. The going was slow because every few yards they were stopped by people who wanted to talk with Sondra, for some reason or another.

 

Mr. Weasely found the group standing before a tent so obvious magical, it was a wonder how it could stand otherwise. Harry, Ron, Mitchell, Brittany, Draco, and Ginny were sitting on the ground leaning against each other dozing.

 

Hermione had gotten a book out, and the twins were hanging onto Sondra's arms. She was talking to witch from the Apothecary about how the loan she gave them helped the store to see another day. The others had gone ahead without them.

 

“There you are! I had wondered where you had all gotten to,” called Mr. Weasely. The group on the ground jumped up startled. It was a moment before they began following Mr. Weasely as he marched briskly by.

 

They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field an here was Charlie, Bill, and Percy pacing the empty patch of land. The Weaselys and the triplets set about putting up there tents. Harry and Hermione, despite the `help' of Mr. Mr. Weasely, managed to put the tent up.

 

Meandering over the Triplets tent, put up long before the other, they heard shouting.

 

“NO! I will NOT let you sleep in here,” Mitchell's voice could be herd saying. It was beginning to wake up people in the neighboring tents.

 

“But! We want to be with our beloved,” the twins' voices yelled back in unison.

 

The three entered the tent, passing Sondra on her way out. To find Mitchell yelling red faced at the twins. Who were looking pleadingly at him. “No! It will only be the girls and me!” Mitchell practically screeched.

 

“That's not fair! Why do you get to stay in here,” whined Fred. Mr. Weasely bustled forward, trying unsuccessfully, to stop the fight before it got out of hand. They were however ignoring him. Mr. Weasely was no match for the mischievous boys.

 

“Because! He already dresses the part,” replied Brittany, looking Mitchell up and down.

 

He had changed. A red knee length skirt, and black flip flops showed off his shapely, recently shaved legs. While a white t-shirt hugged his slightly feminine curves. While topping it off his shoulder length, black hair was in a high ponytail.

 

He was about to yell at the twins some more when Sondra's voice called through the tent. “Someone go get some water and I will… give them a kiss on the cheek.” You could hear the cringe in her voice at the end of the sentence. Instantly Fred and George scrambled to do as she asked. “And would someone please go get some more wood for the fire.” Bill and Charlie strode out of the tent.

 

Percy left mumbling about finding Mr. Crouch and being needed. Leaving six of them, to do what they wanted. “Why are you wearing that anyway,” drawled Draco, lounging on a couch.

 

“Because, you ass, I didn't get the chance to grab my things this morning! I had to borrow from Sondra,” Mitchell replied.

 

“Oh, yes, that was so trying for you,” said Draco dramatically, his smirk showing that he found humor in this.

 

“Yeah, so. Why didn't you grab a pair of her jeans,” asked Ron.

 

“I like this better.”

 

“You are so weird,” groaned Brittany.

 

“Why don't we go check things out,” suggested Harry.

 

They all filed out of the tent and began walking. They saw young witches and wizards playing, and several different countries represented. Suddenly they walked into a patch of tents bedecked with Shamrocks. There they ran into Seamus, who emerged from one of the leafy tents with a woman that had to be his mother. After talking with them a while they continued on.

 

Just with the Irish supporters the Bulgarians could be easily spotted. They, instead of vegetation, had pictures of there teams seeker, Viktor Krum. On several occasions they saw people very poorly, dressed as muggles. One man was wearing a long flowery nightgown.

 

Oliver Wood newly wedded to Anna, the triplet's older sister, with him and his parents. Oliver had just been signed on to the Puddlemere United reserve team. Anna had become the assistant to her former Headmistress Madame Maxine.

 

Anna greeted them happily despite the fact that their Mother having forbidden her to speak to her adoptive siblings. They weren't speaking since she had found out that Anna had backed out of her marriage contract with the Goyle family. They also saw Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff, Cho Chang; a girl Harry had a crush on, she was in Ravenclaw.

 

When they finally returned to campsite, they found Sondra was dishing out sausage, eggs, and toast. The grumbling in there stomachs alerted them there hunger. Mr. Weasely was greeting witches and wizards as they passed by. All the while he kept up a running commentary.

 

Halfway through the meal, Ludo Bagman approached in his black and yellow Wasps Quidditch uniform. He looked every bit the wizard. “Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?” He jingled what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of the robes.

 

“Well… Let's see… a Galleon on Ireland to win?” Mr. Weasely offered digging a Galleon out of his pocket.

 

“A Galleon?” Bagman looked slightly dissapointed, but quickly recovered himself. “Very well, very well… any other takers?

 

“We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and three Knuts,” began Fred as he and George quickly pooled there money.

 

“That Ireland wins… but Viktor Krum gets the snitch,” continued George.

 

“Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand,” finished Fred.

 

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” called Brittany in a sing-song voice.

 

“And why not,” asked George.

 

“Because he is well known for being addicted to gambling,” replied Mitchell.

 

“I am not!” Bagman shouted his face red with embarrassment.

 

“Yes, you are. And you are notoriously bad at it too,” added Draco.

 

“Mr. Bagman, I do believe that you owe His Majesty, three thousand Galleons, at this point. When do I expect to see it in the treasury once again,” inquired Sondra in a chilly tone.

 

Bagman stumbled back at this moment, his eyes landing on her. “L-Lady Sondra,” he began bowing deeply. “Forgive me for not seeing you. I'll have you your money as soon as I can, my lady.”

 

Everyone was looking at the two of them as if they had gown second heads. “WHAT THE HELL, DO YOU DO WHEN YOU LEAVE,” yelled Mitchell. He stepped up to get in Sondra's face.

 

“Yeah! What is with the whole `Lady Sondra' shit,” added Brittany coming to stand next to Mitchell.

 

Sondra looked past them to Bagman. “Be sure to get the money to me by Christmas, or I will have it taken from your hide,” she growled.

 

“Y-Yes.” Bagman was looking frantic. “Ah… W-What about those shrubs for the… the event next June,” Bagman inquired, trying to edge away.

 

“Hey! Don't ignore us,” growled the siblings in unison.

 

“They will be planted by the end of September,” Sondra replied, still ignoring them.

 

Mitchell swung his hand back to hit her. If he were anyone else the twins would be right there to defend her. “You bitch!”

 

However, it was a neatly dressed, elderly man popping up at the fireside that distracted the siblings. “I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box.”

 

“Oh is that what they're after?” said Bagman.

 

“Mr. Crouch!” said Percy breathlessly, sunk into kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

 

“Oh,” said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. “Yes… thank you, Weatherby.” The others could be herd snickering all around them. “Hello Sondra, how is His Majesty?”

 

“Fine, you?”

 

“Fine.” Mr. Couch then turned to Mr. Weasely to talk to him about flying carpets.

 

Mitchell, no longer remembering his being angry, accosted Ginny and they went to flirt with the Bulgarian team. Bagman and Crouch left shortly afterwards. Mr. Crouch gave the slightly dejected Percy, the untouched tea back.

 

“See you all later,” he said. “You'll be in the Top Box with me… I'm Commenting!” He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

 

Ron, Brittany, Harry, Draco, and Hermione all went to visit with Brittany's cousin. Who was the captain of the Irish Quidditch team. While the twins stuck to Sondra like burrs, and pelting her with questions.

 

Sondra on the other hand expertly dodged them by telling them that they were not allowed to sleep in her tent. Mr. Weasely, Bill, Charlie, and Percy stuck to the campsite chatting with each other, as well as whoever stopped by.

 

A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campgrounds as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

 

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes—green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria—which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks.

 

As well as Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions the really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as the were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectable figures of famous players, which strolled across your hand, preening themselves.

 

Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, and a small figure of Viktor Krum. Hermione bought them all programs. Mitchell and Brittany each bought a rosette, flag, hat and Omnioculars.

 

Harry paid for Ron and Hermione's Omnioculars as well as one for himself. Sondra bought some for the adults, Percy, the twins, and herself. As well as green rosettes for the twins, for they gave all there gold to Bagman.

 

Then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field. “It's time,” said Mr. Weasely gleefully. “Come on, let's go!”

 

Amongst the large, boisterous crowd they hurried into the wood. Immersed in the feverish excitement, they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium.

 

Up, and up they climbed the purple carpeted stair. Halfway up, Draco made a sound of disgust as a gust of wind blew past them. This caused Mitchell's skirt to billow up, giving the unsuspecting Draco a clear view of his panty clad ass.

 

“Oh, come on. Mitchell, keep that thing under control,' called Draco angrily. Mitchell's response was to flip the skirt up on purpose. This caused several of the group to blush in embarrassment. The teen boys in there seats, however, started cat calling.

 

At the top of the step the entered a box, set at the highest point in the stadium, exactly half way between the golden goal posts. Looking out the teens saw a sight they never even imagined.

 

A hundred Thousand witches and wizards were taking their placed in the seats which rose in levels around the long oval field. Gold writing dashed across a gigantic blackboard, spelling out advertisements.

 

So far they were the only ones in the box, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second to last seat at the end of the row behind them. “Dobby?”

 

Dobby had tried to protect Harry during his second year. He had set Dobby free from his old owners, the Malfoy family. The creature looked at Harry, he saw now that it wasn't Dobby.

 

“Did sir just call me Dobby,” squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. Harry suspected… though it was very hard to tell with a house-elf… that this one might just be female.

 

“Sorry,” Harry told the elf, “I just thought you were someone I knew.”

 

“But I knows Dobby too, sir,” squeaked the elf. She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, though the Top Box was not brightly lit. “My name is Winky, sir… and you, sir…” Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry's scar. “You is surely Harry Potter!”

 

“Yeah, I am,” said Harry.

 

“But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir,” she said, lowering her hands very slightly and looking awestruck.

 

“How is he,” asked Harry. “How's freedom suiting him?”

 

“Ah, sir, ah, sir,” began Winky shaking her head. “Meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free.”

 

“Why,” asked Harry.

 

“He is wanting paying for his work, sir. House-elves is not paid, sir,” Winky's voice was raising to be a squeaking shout.

 

“And house-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter,” there was a slight flush on her face, now.

 

“House-elves dose what they is told.” Winky glanced over at the railing before shuddering. “I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter but my mast sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir.”

 

“Right,” replied Harry edging away.

 

“That was weird,” commented Ron. The others nodded in agreement. Hermione on the other hand was skimming through her program.

 

“'A display from the team mascots will proceed the match,” she read aloud.

 

“Oh, that's always worth watching,” said Mr. Weasely. “National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show.”

 

The box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr. Weasely kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Sondra had put the hat on and ducked her head in an attempt not to be recognized. Mitchell, Draco, and the twins were rough housing in there seats.

 

Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. All the while sending Mitchell dirty looks for his strange attire. Brittany, Ginny and Hermione were playing a game of card.

 

When Cornelius Fudge, the triplet's uncle arrived with the Bulgarian Minister, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off his nose and shattered. Embarrassed, he fixed his glasses with his wand. After that he stayed in his seat.

 

Fudge introduced Harry to the Minister speaking loudly, and with plenty of hand motions. Sondra had to giggle at this, causing Fudge to settle his attention on her.

 

“Ah, this is one of my nieces, Sondra.” He said this forgetting who he was talking to for a moment. He promptly began to mime the words.

 

“Uncle you really don't have to do that. He understands English very well.” Sondra turned her attention to the other Minister, while standing. “Isn't that right, Vlad,” she teased, hugging him like an old friend.

 

“Yez, I vas just… vunnig vou,” explained Vlad, ginning.

 

Fudge was now looking at her like she had returned from the dead. But was distracted when three people came into the box. “Ah! The Malfoys are here,” he exclaimed, running to greet him.

 

Everyone turned to get a look at Dobby the house-elf's former owners: Lucius Malfoy; his eldest son, Steve; and Narcissa, Steve and Draco's mother. The Minister spotted them and excused himself, from the dignitary.

 

As the Minister and Mr. Malfoy spoke, Mr. Weasely tensely ignored them. Sondra chatted with the Bulgarian Minister, and everyone else just continued with what they were doing before the trio appeared.

 

Soon Ludo Bagman charged into the box. “Everyone ready,” he asked, his round face gleaming with excitement. “Minister… ready to go?”

 

“Ready when you are, Ludo,” replied Fudge comfortably. Ludo whipped out his wand as everyone took there seats.

 

He directed it at his throat, and said, “Sonorus!” and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium. His 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 anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped cleat 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.

 

“I wonder what they've brought,” commented Brittany leaning forward in her seat. She made a sound of disgust. “Veela!”

 

“What are veel…” the question was cut of as a hundred veela glided out onto the field. Music started, and the boys dropped into a stupor.

 

The veela had started dancing. Harry had started to climb the wall. Ron looked as if he was about to dive from a springboard. Draco was standing on the rail flexing. Mitchell was growling, and tearing at his clothes.

 

The music stopped and Brittany finally managed to pull Draco back before he fell. Angry yells ere filling the stadium. The crowd didn't want the veela to go.

 

Ron was shredding his hat when his father took it from him “You'll want that later,” said Mr. Weasely.

 

“And now…” roared Ludo Bagman's voice. “Kindly put your wands in the air… for the Irish National Team Mascots!”

 

The next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comet, each hurtling toward the goal posts.

 

A rainbow suddenly arched across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowed oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light united and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. It was pouring gold into the stands.

 

“Leprechauns,” exclaimed Mitchell elated.

 

The shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down into the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match. Ludo introduced the Bulgarian National Team as scarlet blurs flew into the stadium.

 

Krum, when his name was called he rode out at a slower pace looking very much like an over-grown bird of prey. He was thin, dark, and shallow-skinned, with large curved nose and thick black eyebrows.

 

Ludo called the names of the Irish team. When Aiden Lynch's name the triplets' relative was called he too entered slowly. Thin and fair all around he was in many ways the very opposite of Krum. He smiled and waved to the crowd.

 

The match was over far to quickly. Krum caught the Snitch. But amazingly the Irish has won. The score board read: BULGARIA: 160 IRELAND: 170. The Top Box was illuminated, and two wizards brought the vast golden cup in.

 

“Let's have a really loud hand for the Gallant losers…Bulgaria,” Bagman shouted.

 

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the bow, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their minister and then with the Fudge. Krum was a spectacular sight. The Bludger did its job quite well. Two black eyes were blooming on his bloody face. On the ground he was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered.

 

Once he was finished Sondra gave him a hug as though they were good friends. The twins looked as though they would like to have a piece of him. She pulled a vile of green liquid and a bottle of water. At the sight of the vile, anyone who'd received medical attention from her winced. Krum downed it with a grimace, before the water followed.

 

And then the Irish team came, Aiden Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly. The two collisions with the ground really did a number on him. Brittany grabbed Sondra's purse to help him, because her sister was lovingly wiping Krum's face. His nose was no longer broken.

 

Aiden looked out with a bemused grin. Well, that was until Brittany poured the potion down his throat. Aiden's eyes crossed slightly and he freed an arm to snatch at the purse. Brittany back peddled while digging the water bottle out of the purse. The cup was hoisted up between Troy and Quigley, and crowed roared in approval.

 

At last, the Irish team left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms. (Aiden, still a little dazed was on the back of Connolly's, clutching hard around his waist.) Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, “Quietus.”

 

Bagman was now giving what he owed to the twins. Mitchell was digging through Sondra's purse. Hermione, Ginny and Brittany were chatting animatedly. Ron, Harry, and Draco were practically jumping out of there skins, with excitement. The adults were speaking of, god only cared. Steve, and the two other Malfoys, still in deep hate with everybody, merely sneered before leaving.