—THE BLACKS, MALFOYS, ZABINIS, AND THOMAS GAUNT ALL APPARATED TO THE CAMPSITE. "Did we have to get up at 5 bloody A.M?" complained Draco, just like he was doing for the past hour.

"No." Lucius smugly smirked. "But I get pleased when you realize that not everything goes in your way."

Rigel and Blaise shared a look, both of them trying to fight their laughter, while Draco started complaining again.

"Oh, cheer up, Draco!" Blaise slung an arm over his shoulder.

Narcissa and Mrs. Zabini were too busy talking about how beautiful Paris was— Honestly, Rigel didn't even know how that conversation started.

While the Malfoy and Zabini heirs started bickering.. again.. the story was a whole lot different with the Blacks.

"Sirius—!" Remus looked embarassed as a black dog was now running around the campsite, looking for their tent.

"How long till we tell him that our tents are north not east?" Rigel asked, pointing to the dog that was heading east.

Remus smirked. "We'll wait until he figures it out."

"Such cruelty, Remus." Tom mocked, making Remus' smirk grow wider.

••

"We're here." Lucius announced.

Rigel looked over and saw three fancy tents, making him roll his eyes. He knew how dramatic his family was— but Lucius' was a whole different story.

The guy had peacocks in front of his damn tent!

"That's nothing new." Tom pointed out, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the tent which had a sign saying 'Black Family' in front of it.

"Don't touch me." glared Rigel, pulling his hand harshly.

"Sorry." Tom shrugged, not looking sorry at all.

The Black heir rolled his eyes. He looked around the tent, shaking his head when he realized that it was a smaller version of Black manor.

A dog rushed into the tent, catching their attentions. Sirius Black changed back from his animagus form, glaring at the three. "Why did nobody tell me our tent was North!"

"You didn't listen to me when I told you not to turn into a dog and search the whole campsite." Remus shrugged, not bothering to look remorseful.

Sirius huffed, noticing this.

••

"Seats a hundred thousand." mused Sirius, explaining when he saw the look of confusion and slight awe on Rigel's face. "The Ministry has been working on this event all year. Muggle repelling charms on every inch of it."

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. "Top box! Straight upstairs, Lord Black, and as high as you can go."

Sirius thanked her, and walked up the stairs which led them into the stadium.

As they sat down, Tom turned around, looking at the seemingly empty spot, then looked at the house-elf that was frighteningly closing her eyes. "Hello?"

The house-elf jumped. Her eyes widened as she realized who it was. "You surely last living Gaunt!" She blurted out, immediately knowing who he was due to how it was believed that the Gaunts had died out, but there was one living Gaunt left.

"Yes. I'm Thomas Gaunt, who are you?"

"Winky, sir—! Winky, the house-elf!"

Tom nodded, pointing to the empty seat next to her. "You seem very afraid. Why's that? And why are you keeping that seat?"

"I is not liking heights at all, sir—" she glanced towards the edge of the box and gulped "—but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir."

"And the empty seat?"

"Master— master wants me to save him a seat, sir. He is very busy." said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space behind her.

Tom nodded, discreetly nodding at the seemingly-empty seat one last time, and turned around.

"I take it he knows?" Remus whispered, already knowing the plan.

"I sure hope so." Tom muttered. "Let's just hope that Azkaban didn't take a huge toll on him, and nor did the imperius curse."

Remus nodded understandingly, while Sirius pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, staring into the crowd on the other side of the stadium.

"Wicked!" Sirius grinned, twiddling the replay button on the side. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again... and again... and again!"

Remus shook his head fondly, not bothering to scold his husband again.

"Let me see!" exclaimed Rigel, grinning when Sirius handed the Omnioculars over. "Eew. Take it back." He wrinkled his nose in disgust, watching what Sirius had saw.

Sirius let out a laugh, taking it from his son's hands.

••

The box filled gradually around them over the half hour. Surprisingly, even the Weasleys were there.

Sirius and Remus kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards.

Much to Rigel's amusement, Percy Weasley jumped to his feet so often as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy Weasley bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at a bored-looking Rigel, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted as an old friend.

"Harry Potter, you know," The Minister told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who didn't seem to understand a word of English.

"Rigel Black, sir." Rigel tried correcting, hiding the anger he was feeling at being called that wretched name.

It wasn't that he hated being a Potter. No.

It was just the fact that even though his biological father gave up his life for him, Sirius had been his father-figure throughout his life.

He was a Black, not a Potter.

He had grown up as a Black, not as a Potter.

He now had Black blood in his veins, not Potter blood.

He was not Harry Potter. He was Rigel Black.

"Rigel Potter-Black!" Cornelius corrected himself, still not looking away from the Bulgarian minister, not realizing Rigel's heavy breathing. "Oh come on now, you know who he is... the boy who survived you-know-who!... you do know who he is—"

The Bulgarian minister suddenly spotted Rigel's scar that he often tried to hide, but due to the fact that he took a shower, his hair was slightly messy, meaning it didn't cover up his lightning bolt scar. He pointed at it and started gabbling loudly and excitedly.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Rigel. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing— ah, and here's Mr. Weasley!"

The Malfoys, Zabinis, and Blacks all stopped, glaring at the man, who was glaring back.

Lucius Malfoy stood up, his suit making him look more intimidating than he was. "Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Fudge, who 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 and so are the Blacks!"

"How— how nice," said Mr. Weasley with a very strained smile.

Lucius' eyes had turned to Hermione, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him. Rigel smirked, knowing exactly what made Lucius' lip curl like that. The Malfoys, and many other sacred 28 pureblood families, prided themselves on being pureblood; in other words, they considered anyone of Muggle descent, like Hermione Granger, second-class.

However, under the eyes of the Minister of Magic, nobody dared to say anything. Lucius nodded sneeringly to Mr. Weasley and sat back down, Rigel and the others following him.

"Slimy gits," they heard Ron Weasley mutter, but ignored him.

The next moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box. "Everyone ready?" Ludo asked, his round face gleaming with excitement. "Minister— ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," replied Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directing it at his throat, and said "Sonorus!" And then spoke over the roar of voices hat were filling the packed stadium.

"Ladies and Gentlemen... welcome! 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!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared with approval.

"I wonder what they've brought," whispered Sirius, leaning forward in his seat, and wrinkling his nose. "Veelas."

Rigel leaned forward, immediately leaning back again, not affected at all for some reason.

The same couldn't be said for the Weasleys.

But the same could definitely be said for Thomas Gaunt, who was looking bored, and Remus.

"I don't get it." Rigel shook his head in confusion. "Why's it not affecting me?"

"There can be two reasonable explanation for that—" Remus said but was cut off by an excited Sirius.

"1- You're gay!"

Rigel's eyes widened. Was he gay?

"Or—" Remus rolled his eyes "—your occulemency shields are closed up."

Rigel nodded. As soon as the two looked away, he pulled down his occulemency shields, eyes widening when he still wasn't affected. He immediately pulled his shields back up, pursing his lips in thought.

"And now," roared Ludo 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. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling towards the goal-posts. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from them—

"Leprechauns?" Rigel asked Sirius, who nodded.

"Leprechauns." Sirius confirmed.

The leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

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

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the fields from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robes player zoomed out.

"Zogrov! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaand—Krum!"

Rigel and Sirius both sat up straighter. "Damn." Rigel mused, making Sirius grin stupidly, and snatched the Omnioculars out of his father's hands.

"5 galleons says he's going to come out as gay soon." Sirius whispered to Remus.

"10 galleons says he's going to take a few months— maybe a few years to come out." Remus whispered back, the same grin on his face.

"Deal, Mr. Black." grinned Sirius.

"And, now, please greet— the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman, catching their attentions. "Presenting— Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaand— Lynch!"

Seven green blurs swept onto the field; Rigel spun a small dial on the side of his Omnioculars and slow the players down enough to read the word "Firebolt" on each of their brooms and see their names, embroidered in silver, upon their backs.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hasan Mostafa!"

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a huge mustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under his mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm.

The golden snitch, along with the bludgers and the quaffles shot up in the air.

"And they're off!" exclaimed Ludo Bagman excitedly.