꧁𝓒𝓪𝓷 𝓘 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓪 𝔂𝓮𝓼, 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓳𝓮𝓼𝓽𝔂?꧂
While people truly believed that the school of Beauxbatons only hosted the french, the school had more culture than you could ever believe. Within the large school, larger than Hogwarts or Durms...
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𓆩 𓆩 𓆩 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆪 𓆪 𓆪
Evening came by quickly in Aurélie's opinion and Beauxbatons was soon heading up to watch the match. Whilst looking for their seats, Aurélie saw a familiar redhead and, as they made eye contact, they smiled at each other as they both went their separate ways.
"Who was that?" Camilla questioned having seen the two interact.
"He's the guy I bumped into earlier, Lessie was flirting with his younger brother so me and Bill chatted for a bit," said Aurélie as Camilla smirked.
"Already on first name basis, are we? Well, Bill does look pretty decent," said Camilla lightly.
Aurélie laughed and swatted Camila's chest.
"Shut up," she muttered quietly but she did have to agree with Camilla.
The group of students soon found their seats and they waited for the game to begin, the four brought themselves pairs of Omnioculars.
A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Aurélie's eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Aurélie saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.
The Bluebottle: A Broom for All the Family - safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burgler Buzzer. . . Mrs. Shower's All Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain!. . . Gladrags Wizardwear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade. . .
"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 clear of its last message (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!) 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.
When the veela arrived non of the students got effected by them as majority of the students at Beauxbatons have veela blood, even Juan was use to it so he didn't get effected by it either.
"This is why I hate being half veela," Aurélie sighed as she saw that nearly all the men in the stadium was in the veela trance.
"You hate it? I love it!" Said Celéste, Camilla laughed but she did agree with Aurélie.
"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 toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. 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 -
the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, Aurélie realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green. There was a loud round of applause. Aurélie saw people grabbing the hood from under the seats.
"It's leprechaun gold! It's fake," Aurélie muttered to her friends, the three nodded.
The great shamrock dissolved, 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 field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.
Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.
Seven green blurs swept onto the field; Aurélie spun a small dial on the side of his Omnioculars and slowed 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, Hassan Mostafa!"
A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a 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. Aurélie spun the speed dial on her Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open - four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and (Aurélie saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.
"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman.
While Aurélie had no interest in Quidditch usually, she had a feeling this match would prove exciting.
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