chapter twenty three / bulgarian spirit

                           With a beaming Mr. Weasley in the lead, all of them hurried into the woods, following the lantern-lit trail. They could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, bits of singing. The atmosphere of excitement was highly infectious, and Cassie couldn't stop smiling. They walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking around loudly, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium.

"Seats a hundred thousand," Cassie heard Mr. Weasley tell Harry, who seemed quite in awe of the whole array. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again.. bless them," he added fondly, leading the way around toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" shouted the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

The stairs to the stadium were carpeted in a rich purple velvet. They clambered up with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered through the doors into the stands to their left and right. Mr. Weasley's party continued climbing until Cassie was beyond winded and Hermione had a stitch in her stomach from laughing at something Fred had said.

Immediately, what air Cassie had left in her lungs seemed to abandon her. She stared onto the pitch and was suddenly glad of their high seats – it was quite the advantage point. Her eyes scanned the stadium to see if she could catch a glimpse of where any of her other friends were sitting, but it was useless. She couldn't tell who was sitting three sections over if she tried.

"Dobby?" Harry's voice said, and Cassie turned her attention to the house elf rocking back and forth on the row behind them. The elf looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing its large and tomato-shaped eyes.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" the house elf squeaked. Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats, and even Mr. Weasley seemed to have had his interest peaked. Whoever Dobby was, he seemed pretty popular amongst Cassie's friends.

"Sorry," stammered Harry to the elf, "I just thought you were someone I knew."

"But I knows Dobby!" screeched the house 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 salad plates as they rested upon Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am," Harry said.

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" exclaimed Winky, lowering her hands and looking very awestruck.

"How is he?" asked Harry. "How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir," said Winky, shaking her head. "ah, sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free."

"What?" Harry was obviously taken aback by this statement, though Cassie was still confused as to who Dobby was. "What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir. Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

Winky lowered her voice a tad and whispered, "He is wanting paying for his work, sir:"

"Paying? Well – why shouldn't he be paid–?"

Harry and Winky continued speaking, but Cassie's attention turned to the platinum blonde heads of hair that had just entered the Top Box. She clenched her fists but pretended to ignore them, instead keeping her eyes on the empty Quidditch pitch and messing with the hem of her sweater.

Again, her attention was ripped away, this time to the Minister of Magic. He was speaking very animatedly and slowly to a man who seemed extremely confused, Fudge using his arms and head to gesture widely around. The man he was speaking to caught Cassie's eye and grinned slyly, winking. She tried to hold back a laugh.

Cassie turned to ask Ron who the man Fudge was talking to was, but Hermione cut her off. "'A display of the team mascots will precede the match,'" she read from her pamphlet.

"Oh, that's always worth watching!" said Mr. Weasley brightly. "National teams bring big creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."

A few moments later, Fudge had walked over to the Weasley's party and was shaking hands with Harry, who was receiving a death glare from Percy, who had bowed so low when the Minister approached that his glasses had fallen off the bridge of his nose and shattered. Ron and Cassie were still collecting themselves from laughing at him.

"Harry Potter, you know," Fudge told the man from before loudly. "Harry Potter.. oh come on now, you know who he is... the boy who survived You-Know-Who... you do know who he is–"

The man suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling words in another language loudly and excitedly, pointing at the lightning bolt.

"You'd think you're famous or something," Cassie said under her breath to Harry, who stifled a laugh and shook the man's hand.

Fudge muttered something to himself and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, glancing around the box, until he grinned. "Ah, and here's Lucius!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione's heads all turned quickly, and Cassie soon remembered that Lucius was Mr. Malfoy. Draco's dad. Ew.

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco."

Cassie's eyes fell on Narcissa Malfoy, the pretty woman attached to Lucius Malfoy's hip. She was tall and slim and, to be honest, quite pretty. She gazed down at Cassie with some sort of guarded emotion on her face, and Cassie quickly directed her eyes back to Lucius.

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk – Obalonks – well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word of what I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else – you know Arthur Weasley, I dare say?"

"Good lord, Arthur," began Mr. Malfoy in a quiet tone, "what did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house couldn't have fetched this much?"

Fudge, who clearly 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.. nice," said Mr. Weasley with a very strained smile.

Hermione and Mr. Malfoy had a very intense stare down, Mr. Malfoy's lip curled disgustingly into a sneer. He must've thought she was gross. Cassie narrowed her eyes at Mr. Malfoy and she felt Harry and Ron tense up next to her. However, under the gaze of the Minister, Mr. Malfoy didn't dare say anything. He nodded sneeringly at Mr. Weasley once more before continuing down the line to his seats. Draco shot Harry, Cassie, Hermione, and Ron a contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father. Cassie rolled her eyes.

"Slimy gits," muttered Ron as the four of them turned their attention back to the field. Ludo Bagman charged into the box a moment later.

"Everyone ready?" he asked loudly, his round face gleaming with excitement. "Minister – ready to go?"

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

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 voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

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

The spectators screamed and clapped, but Cassie leaned in so her friends could hear her. "How can everyone understand him? Don't they all speak different languages?" she shouted.

"Blimey, woman, are we wizards or not!?" Ron yelled in reply, and Cassie rolled her eyes, though a smile was on her lips.

"And now, allow me to introduce.. the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

"I wonder what they've brought," said Mr. Weasley, leaning forward in his seat. "Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly, polishing his glasses quickly on his robes. "Veela!"

"What are v–" Harry began, though he cut himself short and his eyes widened as the veela walked onto the pitch. No, not walked – glided.

Ron, Harry, and Mr. Weasley watched the veela dance. Hermione have Cassie a disapproving look and the two girls crossed their arms, sitting back in their seat, when Harry and Ron began to climb from their seats as though they were going to jump. Cassie and Hermione scrambled to grab the boys by the arms.

Hermione scoffed and sat back down. "Honestly!" she chastised, though it was difficult to tell if the boys heard her, as their eyes were still on the veela.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

A great green and gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did a circle around the stands, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling towards the goalposts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of like. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it.

"Excellent!" cried Ron as the shamrock soared over them, dropping heavy gold coins onto the crowd.

"Leprechauns!" said Mr. Weasley over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of whom were still fighting and rummaging around their chairs to retrieve gold.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome the Bulgarian National Quidditch team! I give you... Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad figure emerged from somewhere (Cassie truthfully had no idea where he'd come from), moving so fast it was blurred.

"Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov!" With every name Bagman called out, another scarlet figure soared around the stadium. "Volkov! Aaaaand – KRUM!"

"That's him, that's him!" Ron yelled, following Krum with his Omnioculars. Cassie cheered for the Bulgarian team with Ron, clapping her hands together and screaming as loud as her lungs would let her.

"And now, please greet... the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting – Connnolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Morgan! Quigley! Aaaand – LYNCH!"

Seven green blurs swept onto the field. Cassie, despite rooting for the other team, couldn't keep the grin off her face.

"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 with a thick black mustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other. Cassie watched as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open – four balls burst into the air; the Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast from his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"AND THEY'RE OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

Cassie decided it was unnecessary to have an announcer for the game, as there wouldn't be a single person in the stands not paying attention, and it seemed quite hard to keep up with all of the players and their movements. She suddenly felt quite bad for Bagman, who was beginning to stutter on the names, putting him a split second behind.

"TROY SCORES!" Bagman roared, and the stadium shuddered with loud applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!"

"What?" asked Harry, removing his Omnioculars from his eyes. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!" 

"Harry, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" Hermione shouted, who was dancing up and down, waving her arms in the air while Troy did a lap of honor around the field. The leprechauns burst into a victorious dance whilst the veela glared from their side of the field.

Within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of applause from the green-clad supporters. But a moment later, Ivanova had burst through the Irish ranks, dodged the Keeper, Ryan, and scored Bulgaria their first goal.

Cassie and Ron jumped up and down in celebration, both of them clutching onto each other and screaming until Cassie could barely hear herself.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova – oh, I say!"

One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers. Cassie followed their descent with her eyes very closely, squinting to see if she could get a quick golden shot of the Snitch.

"They're going to crash!" cried Hermione.

She was half right – at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge grown rose from the Irish seats, whilst Cassie and Ron cheered again.

"Fool!" moaned Mr. Weasley. "Krum was feigning!"

"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aiden Lynch!"

"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course.."

"Brilliant move on him, mind you!" Cassie said, grinning, while Ron swung his arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair. "I'm telling you, Krum's gonna win this for Bulgaria!"

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the supporters in green, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland a new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with skill unrivaled by anything that had happened so far.

    "After fifteen more minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals. They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was beginning to get dirtier.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing – excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring crowd. "And – yes, it's penalty to Ireland!"

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, 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.

The boys stuffed their fingers into their ears at once, but Cassie and Hermione began giggling at the referee, who had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly. He began flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

"Now, we can't have that!" Cassie heard Ludo Bagman laughed over hers and Hermione's giggles. "Somebody slap the referee!"

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed in his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself. He became very embarrassed and started yelling at the veela, who stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian mascots!" Bagman cried. "Now there's something we haven't seen before! Oh, this could turn nasty..."

It did. The Bulgarian Beaters landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating towards the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarian arguments; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts of his whistle.

"Two penalties to Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and Cassie and Ron turned to each other, shouting in anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov better get back on those broom.. yes, there they go! ...and Troy takes the Quaffle!"

The game now reached a new level of ferocity beyond anything they had seen yet. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy; the Bulgarians seemed not to care as to whether their bats made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them through the air furiously. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters at once, all standing up in a wave of green.

"Foul!" Bagman agreed in his magnified voice. "Dinitrov skins Moran – deliberately flying to collide there – and it's got to be another penalty – yes, there's the whistle!"

The leprechauns had risen off their stands again and formed a giant hand, of which was making a very rude gesture to the veela. At this, the Bulgarian mascots lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns.

"YEAH! WELL DONE, VEELA!" Cassie and Ron yelled in sync, beating their hands together and cheering.

"Levski – Dimitrov! Moran, Troy, Mullet – Ivanova – Moran again! Moran.... MORAN SCORES!"

Cassie let out a groan and shoved Harry's shoulder as he cheered next to her.

The Irish Beater swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. The crowd winced as one when the deafening crack echoed through the stadium.

Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and Cassie realized one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire at his broom and he was attempting to put it out.

"Time-out! Come on, he can't play like that, look at him–" Ron groaned.

"Look at Lynch!" Harry suddenly yelled.

The Irish Seeker had gone into a dive, so determined that it couldn't have been a Wronski Feint; this was the real thing. Harry was going ballistic. "He's seen the Snitch! He's seen it! Look at him go!"

Half the crowd realized what was happening. Those in green stood, screaming their Seeker on, but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, Cassie had no idea; specks of blood flew through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again–

"They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione.

"They're not!" Ron exclaimed, gripping the railing so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

"Lynch is!" Cassie shouted. She was right – for a second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"He's got it!" Harry shouted over the roar of the crowd. "He got the Snitch!"

"KRUM GOT THE SNITCH!" Cassie echoed, jumping up and down with victory.

The scoreboard was flashing 'Bulgaria : 160, Ireland : 170' across the crowd, and it quickly dawned on Cassie. She stopped her jumping and let out a groan of disappointment, though it was drowned out by the cheering and screaming of the Irish.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman yelled into his wand. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH – BUT IRELAND WINS – good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

Cassie, despite her team losing, couldn't hold back her grin at Harry and Hermione's excitement. "He knew they were never going to catch up," Harry explained happily. "He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all.."

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione asked to no one in particular. Cassie leaned forward with her and nodded. "He looks a terrible mess."

"I think he looks more devil-may-care this way, is all," Cassie shrugged, her grey eyes watching as Krum and his team entered the Top Box for Bagman to congratulate them first.

"Congratulations to our gallant losers! Give them a hand, shall we?" he called, and the crowd erupted into applause.

And then came the Irish team, earning abrupt cheers and celebratory shouts from the crowd, louder than they were for the Bulgarians.

At last, the Irish and the Bulgarians left the box to perform laps of honor or return to their locker rooms. Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus."

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that was... shame it couldn't have lasted longer... Ah, yes, I owe you... how much?"

Fred and George stood in front of the man, grinning cheekily at him, their hands outstretched. Cassie felt a tap on her shoulder and she stifled a groan before turning.

"I forgot about our bet," she admitted, and Charlie chuckled. Cassie pulled out her money bag and tossed five Galleons into Charlie's hand, rolling her eyes. "Congrats, Weasley, you've just conned a child."