𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓂'𝓈 𝒜 𝐵𝓇𝑒𝓌𝒾𝓃'

August 24th, 1994

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒮𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃

Thump!

Iris landed on her feet with a sharp breath. A shock ran through her body as she quickly fell to her knees, hands flying to her head. Her fingers pushed against her skull in a futile attempt to grab at the pain.

The others quickly recovered from their awkward landings as they surrounded their friends. Everyone was at a loss at how exactly they could help with the silent pain she was experiencing. The two men stood to the side with a parchment, watched with wide eyes, clearly at just as much of a loss.

Jane was the first to attempt to reach out, just opting for leaving the comfort of a touch, but that was met with rejection, "Just give me a minute."

And so they did, watching Iris gasping through the pain for what felt like an eternity. Left to just cringe as she pushed through all on her own. The others unable to even understand what had gone wrong.

Eventually, the gasps for air began to even, regaining control, pain fading with every breath in and breath out.

Just in and out. Slow but heavy breaths.

In and out until she could finally lessen the pressure on her head.

In and out until she could finally lower her hands... letting out one last long breath before fighting her way to her feet. A control returned that soon had her back to normal. That air about her that could only belong to a royal.

But true friends could see past the act, could see that wave of exhaustion in her eyes, "What the hell was that?"

Iris smiled faintly, picking up her bag and the duffle holding their tent, "I have never taken the best to the more nauseating travel methods. All the spinning with a portkey messes with my head." Then she turned to the two men with a charming smile.

They were dressed very strangely, one in a kilt and poncho, the other in perhaps the most horrendous button-up that had existed. They glanced at each other, both still seeming to be comprehending the sudden shift in the teen before them. But all they could really do was finish with their job, the one in the poncho taking the worn-down hat that had seemed to transport the group there from Jane's hands.

"What is the last name of your party?"

~~~~~~

The Quidditch World Cup brought out probably the largest grouping of witches and wizards every four years, and it was the one shared event in the Wizarding World. Even those who lacked interest in the sport showed up for just the experience itself.

And it did make sense as to why. People from all over the world gathered in one place. You could meet a new face every step you took, join around any campfire at night and listen to the wildest of stories. The gathering itself was an event, a time to let loose and have the easiest access to everyone, from familiar faces to some curse breaker from Australia.

Thousands of people...

And that was where it etched away at Iris. Thousands of people. Thousands of very loud people. Thousands of people with heads filled with an endless supply of thoughts.

She did have fun. That was undeniable. But going into the second day of their time there... the day of the game when rivalries were beginning to peak... where it was slowly eating away at her energy.

But she smiled and nodded. Just smiled and nodded. Not allowing her personal grievances to show to her friends. She didn't need her bad mood to be a stain on Sally-Ann and Valeria's good day. Maybe this whole trip would be one big blur to her personally... but it would be a dear memory for them, something they deserved to enjoy to the fullest.