Luna Mia || Theodore Nott

Chapter: 18

"So what was that about?" As we continued our ascend, Harry, Ron and Hermione were hanging at the back of the line with me.
"What was what about Harry?" I seriously wasn't in the mood for cryptic questions.
"Oh you know, the whole encounter with them" Ron spitted 'them' as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth, he even had a disgusted look on his face.
"What the boys are trying to say, Sara, is that you acted rather... strange around the Slytherins. Is every thing alright?"
"Look Hermione, as much as I appreciate your concern about my well being, I am completely fine."
"Well you don't look like it" I swear I was going to kill Ron.
"Well maybe it's because I wasn't able to say hi to my friends for precisely this reason." My voice was getting higher and angrier. It was Harry's turn now.
"Since when are you guys 'friends'?" They were all giving me disgusted looks, even Hermione was attempting to hide it but it was obvious.
"It's really none of your business who my friends are so keep your noses away from my life" I straight out shouted at them as I pushed through the others to walk ahead of them all. I was already pissed by Nott's behaviour enough as it is. I guess he's embarrassed to atleast acknowledge the presence of a filthy  Gryffindor like me infront of his great Slytherin father.

We setteled into the upmost row where the wind wips coldly. As a fleet of broomsticks jet into view, a roar rises in the crowd.
"It's the Irish! There's Troy" Fred announces excitedly.
"And Mullet" George follows.
"And here comes Moran..."
Before Fred can finish, a fleet of dark-clad riders soar over the opposite rim of the stadium. The crowd roars again.
"Here comes the Bulgarian!"
"Who's that?" Ginny asks, pointing to one particularly young player.
"That, sis, is the best Seeker in the world" George answers.
"He flies rather well doesn't he?" Hermione says in a rather dreamy voices. I see the boys exchange amused glances.
"You could say that" says Fred.
"What's his name?" Ginny asks.

On cue, thousands of fans on the opposite side of the stadium flip large cards bearing the face of a surly looking boy with thick eyebrows. Each one is emblazoned with his name: "KRUM."
"Krum?" Asks Hermione.
"Krum." The four boys reply in union

In the Ministry Box, Cornelius Fudge rises as  Lucius Malfoy and Draco take their seats nearby. Following them were Nott and his father. I wished I could throw him off his seat and into the field.
"Good evening! As Minister for Magic, it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup! Let the match begin! "
A ball of light bursts from Fudge's wand and the match begins.

After the match ended, we headed to the tent. No one was able to sleep, all of them excitedly reliving the match. I was not able to sleep for a different reason. I didnt concentrate on the game at all, my eyes glued onto a certain boy in the Ministry's Box. I just felt betrayed by his actions, and I didn't know why it hurt me that much. I was distracted from my thoats by the chat of voices rising like a lion's roar beyond the tent. Fred grins.
"Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on"

"It's not the Irish Fred"
We all turn to see Mr. Weasley standing by the flap peering out. Something in his voices causes the others' smile to wither.
"Get yourselves dressed" he turns diercely "Now!"

Panic engulfs me as I quickly shrug on my shoes. I didn't bother wearing a sweater over my t-shirt, the urgency and panic in Mr. Weasley's voice ringing inside my head and moving my legs. My heart was hammering in my chest as we scramble out of the tent and stare with disbelief at the hellish tableaux before us. All around, people run in terror, trampling and kicking up sparks. Then we see why:
A teeming clot of black robed wizards, faces concealed behind hideous masks, march across the campsite, laughing drunkenly. Some clutch torches while others point their wands skyward, where four people tumble eerily high above.

"Who are those people? In the air?" Ginny asks frightened.
"Muggles." Her father answers.
"And the ones on the ground?"
"Death Eaters" I said glumly, the weight of the situation finally crashing onto me.
"Get back to the potkey, all of you. And stick together. Fred, George, you're responsible for Ginny. Ginny, you listen to your brothers. Ginny! Did you hear me!"
Ginny blinks, startled by her father's fierce expression, then nods. Mr. Weasley dashes off and we streak past blazing tents towards the Portkey. Amidst the chaos, I get pushed away from the others. I try to push my way back through the crowd, but a bunch of deatheaters were coming my way. I quickly turn around and start running seeing the others disappear through the portkey. I didn't care though as I pushed my way through the panicking crowd, clutching my wand so hard that my knuckles turned white.